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SAnU EL E . CASS I N & 



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Copyright, 1S93, 

BY 

The Cassino Art Co. 









CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Canto I. The Chase 23 

" II. The Island 57 

" III. The Gathering .... 95 

" IV. The Prophecy 129 

" V. The Combat 165 

" VI. The Guard-Room . . . 203 



AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. 



After the aiccess of " Marmion," I felt in- 
clined to exclain with Ulysses in ' ' The Odys- 
sey," — 

OuTO? fj.ei> S) ae0Ao9 aaaros eKTeTe\e<TTai' 
"Siv avre aictnov 6.\kov. 

'*One venturous gime my hand has won to-day, 
Another, gallants, yet remains to play." 

\ — Odyssey, x. I. 5. 

The ancient manners, the habits and customs 
of the aboriginal race, by whom the Highlands 
of Scotland were inhabited, had always ap- 
peared to me peculiarlyadapted to poetry. The 
change in their mannes, too, had taken place 
almost within my own tme ; or at least I had 
learned many particulars concerning the ancient 
state of the Highlands fron the old men of the 
last generation. I had aUays thought the old 
Scottish Gael highly adapted for poetical com- 
position. The feuds and political dissensions 
9 



10 author's introduction. 

which half a century earlier would ha/e ren- 
dered the richer and wealthier part of tne king- 
dom indisposed to countenance a poem the 
scene of which was laid in the Highlands, were 
now sunk in the generous compassioi which the 
English, more than any other nation, feel for 
the misfortunes of an honorable foe. The Poems 
of Ossian had, by their populari'y, sufficiently 
shown that if writings on Highland subjects 
were qualified to interest the nader, mere na- 
tional prejudices were, in the p-esent day, very 
unlikely to interfere with their success. 

I had also read a great de?l, seen much, and 
heard more, of that romanti: country, where I 
was in the habit of spendirg some time every 
autumn ; and the scenery a" Loch Katrine was 
connected with the recollection of many a dear 
friend and merry expediton of former days. 
This poem, the action )f which lay among 
scenes so beautiful and s3 deeply imprinted on 
my recollections, was a labor of love ; and it 
was no less so to recall the manners and inci- 
dents introduced. Tie frequent custom of 
James IV., and partcularly of James V., to 
walk through their kiigdom in disguise, afforded 
me the hint of an in<ident which never fails to 
be interesting if nanaged with the slightest 
address of dexterit'. 

I may now coness, however, that the em- 



AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. II 

ployment, though attended with great pleasure, 
was not without its doubts and anxieties. A 
lady to whom I was nearly related, and with 
whom I lived during her whole life on the most 
brotherly terms of affection, was residing with 
me at the time when the work was in progress, 
and used to ask me what I could possibly do to 
rise so early in the morning (that happening 
to be the most convenient time to me for compo- 
sition). At last I told her the subject of my 
meditations ; and I can never forget the anxiety 
and affection expressed in her reply. " Do not 
be so rash," she said, "my dearest cousin. 
You are already popular, — more so, perhaps, 
than you yourself will believe, or than even I or 
other partial friends can fairly allow to your 
merit. You stand high ! do not rashly attempt 
to climb higher, and incur the risk of a fall, — 
for, depend upon it, a favorite will not be per- 
mitted even to stumble with impunity." I re- 
plied to this affectionate expostulation in the 
words of Montrose, — 

" He either fears his fate too much, 
Or his deserts are small, 
Who dares not put it to the touch 
To gain or lose it all." 

" If I fail," I said, — for the dialogue is strong in 



12 AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. 

my recollection, — " it is a sign that I ought never 
to have succeeded, and I will write prose for 
life ; you shall see no change in my temper, nor 
will I eat a single meal the worse. But if I 
succeed, 

' Up with the bonnie blue bonnet, 

The dirk, and the feather, and a' ! ' " 

Afterwards I showed my affectionate and 
anxious critic the first canto of the poem, which 
reconciled her to my imprudence. Nevertheless, 
although I answered thus confidently, with the 
obstinacy often said to be proper to those who 
bear my surname, I acknowledge that my con- 
fidence was considerably shaken by the warning 
of her excellent taste and unbiassed friendship. 
Nor was I much comforted by her retraction of 
her unfavorable judgment, when I recollected 
how likely a natural partiality was to effect that 
change of opinion. In such cases affection rises 
like a light on the canvas, improves any favor- 
able tints which it formerly exhibited, and throws 
its defects into the shade. 

I remember that about the same time a friend 
started in to " heeze up my hope," like the 
"sportsman with his cutty gun," in the old 
song. He was bred a farmer, but a man of 
powerful understanding, natural good taste and 



AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. I 3 

warm poetical feeling, perfectly competent to 
supply the wants of an imperfect or irregular 
education. He was a passionate admirer of field- 
sports, which we often pursued together. 

As this friend happened to dine with me at 
Ashesteil one day, I took the opportunity of 
reading to him the first canto of " The Lady 
of the Lake," in order to ascertain the effect 
the poem was likely to produce upon a person 
who was but too favorable a representative of 
readers at large. It is of course to be supposed 
that I determined rather to guide my opinion by 
what my friend might appear to feel than by what 
he might think fit to say. His reception of my 
recitation, or prelection, was rather singular. 
He placed his hand across his brow and lis- 
tened with great attention through the whole 
account of the stag-hunt, till the dogs threw 
themselves into the lake to follow their master, 
who embarks with Ellen Douglas. He then 
started up with a sudden exclamation, struck 
his hand on the table, and declared, in a voice 
of censure calculated for the occasion, that the 
dogs must have been totally ruined by being 
permitted to take the water after such a severe 
chase. I own I was much encouraged by the 
species of reverie which had possessed so zeal- 
ous a follower of the sports of the ancient Nim- 
rod, who had been completely surprised out of 



14 AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. 

all doubts of the reality of the tale. Another 
of his remarks gave me less pleasure. He de- 
tected the identity of the King with the wander- 
ing knight, Fitz-James, when he winds his bugle 
to summon his attendants. He was probably 
thinking of the lively but somewhat licentious 
old ballad in which the denoueme7it of a royal 
intrigue takes place as follows : — 

" He took a bugle frae his side, 
He blew both loud and shrill. 
And four-and-twenty belted knights 

Came skipping ower the hill; 
Then he took out a little knife, 

Let a' his duddies fa', 
And he was the brawest gentleman 
That was amang them a'. 

And we '11 go no more a-roving," etc. 

This discovery, as Mr. Pepys says of the rent 
in his camlet cloak, was but a trifle, yet it trou- 
bled me ; and I was at a good deal of pains to 
efface any marks by which I thought my secret 
could be traced before the conclusion, when I 
relied on it with the same hope of producing 
effect with which the Irish post-boy is said to 
reserve a " trot for the avenue." 

I took uncommon pains to verify the accuracy 
of the local circumstances of this story. I recol- 
lect in particular, that to ascertain whether I was 



AUTHOR'S nYTRODUCTION. I 5 

telling a probable tale, I went into Perthshire to 
see whether King James could actually have rid- 
den from the banks of Loch Vennachar to Stir- 
ling Castle within the time supposed in the poem, 
and had the pleasure to satisfy myself that it 
was quite practicable. 

After a considerable delay, " The Lady of the 
Lake " appeared in June, 1810; and its success 
was certainly so extraordinary as to induce me 
for the moment to conclude that I had at last 
fixed a nail in the proverbially inconstant wheel 
of Fortune, whose stability in behalf of an indi- 
vidual who has so boldly courted her favors for 
three successive times had not as yet been shaken. 
I had attained, perhaps, that degree of public 
reputation at which prudence, or certainly timid- 
ity, w^ould have made a halt, and discontinued 
efforts by which I was far more likely to dimin- 
ish my fame than to increase it. But, as the cele- 
brated John Wilkes is said to have explained to 
his late Majesty that he himself, amid his full 
tide of popularity, was never a Wilkite, so I can, 
wdth honest truth, exculpate myself from having 
been at any time a partisan of my own poetry, 
even when it was in the highest fashion with the 
million. It must not be supposed that I was 
either so ungrateful or so superabundantly can- 
did as to despise or scorn the value of those whose 
voice had elevated me so much higher than my 



1 6 AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. 

own opinion told me I deserved. I felt, on the 
contrary, the more grateful to the public, as receiv- 
ing that, from partiality to me, which Icould not 
have claimed from merit ; and I endeavored to 
deserve the partiality by continuing such exer- 
tions as I was capable of for their amusement. 

It may be that I did not, in this continued 
course of scribbling, consult either the interest 
of the public or my own. But the former had 
effectual means of defending themselves, and 
could by their coldness sufficiently check any ap- 
proach to intrusion ; and for myself, I had now 
for several years dedicated my hours so much to 
literary labor, that I should have felt difficulty in 
employing myself otherwise ; and so, like Dog- 
berry, I generously bestowed all my tediousness 
on the public, comforting myself with the reflec- 
tion that if posterity should think me undeserv- 
ing of the favor with which I was regarded by 
my contemporaries, "they could not but say I 
had the crown," and had enjoyed for a time that 
popularity which is so much coveted. 

I conceived, however, that I held the distin- 
guished situation I had obtained, however un- 
worthily, rather like the champion of pugilism,^ 

1 " In twice five years the ' greatest living poet,' 
Like to the champion in the fisty ring, 
Is called on to support his claim, or show it, 
Although 't is an imaginary thing," etc. 

— Don Juan, canto xi., st. 55. 



AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. 1 7 

on the condition of being always ready to show 
proofs of my skill, than in the manner of the 
champion of chivalry, who performs his duties 
only on rare and solemn occasions. I was in 
any case conscious that I could not long hold a 
situation which the caprice, rather than the 
judgment, of the public had bestowed upon me, 
and preferred being deprived of my precedence 
by some more worthy rival, to sinking into con- 
tempt for my indolence, and losing my reputa- 
tion by what Scottish lawyers call the negative 
prescription. Accordingly, those who choose 
to look at the Introduction to " Rokeby " will be 
able to trace the steps by which I declined as a 
poet to figure as a novelist ; as the ballad says, 
Queen Eleanor sunk at Charing Cross to rise 
"again at Queenhithe. 

It only remains for me to say that during my 
short pre-eminence of popularity I faithfully ob- 
served the rules of moderation which I had re- 
solved to follow before I began my course as a 
man of letters. If a man is determined to make 
a noise in the world, he is as sure to encounter 
abuse and ridicule as he who gallops furiously 
through a village must reckon on being followed 
by the curs in full cry. Experienced persons 
know that in stretching to flog the latter, the 
rider is very apt to catch a bad fall ; nor is an 
attempt to chastise a malignant critic attended 



1 8 AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. 

with less danger to the author. On this prin- 
ciple, I let parody, burlesque, and squibs find 
their own level ; and while the latter hissed most 
fiercely, I was cautious never to catch them up, 
as schoolboys do, to throw them back against the 
naughty boy who fired them off, wisely remem- 
bering that they are, in such cases, apt to explode 
in the handling. Let me add that my reign i 
(since Byron has so called it) was marked by 
some instances of good-nature as well as patience. 
I never refused a literary person of merit such 
services in smoothing his way to the public as 
were in my power; and I had the advantage — 
rather an uncommon one with our irritable race 
— to enjoy general favor without incurring per- 
manent ill-will, so far as is known to me, among 
any of my contemporaries. 

W. S. 
Abbottsford, April, 1S30. 

1 " Sir Walter reign'd before me," etc. 

— Do7iJuan, canto xi., st. 57. 



ARGUMENT. 



The Scene of t/ie following Poem is laid chiefly in 
the vicinity of Loch Katrine^ in the Western High- 
lands of Perthshire. The time of Action inchtdes 
Six Days^ and the transactiojis of each Day occupy a 
Canto. 



CANTO THE FIRST, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



CANTO THE FIRST. 

THE CHASE. 

Harp of the North ! that mouldering long hast 
hung 
On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's 
spring, 
And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, 
Till envious ivy did around thee cling, 
Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — 
O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep? 
Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring, 
Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep, 
Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to 
weep ? 

Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, 

Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd, 

When lay of hopeless love, or glory won, 
Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud. 
23 



24 THE CHASE. 

At each according pause was heard aloud 
Thine ardent symphony subhme and high ! 
Fair dames and crested chiefs attention 
bow'd ; 
For still the burden of thy minstrelsy 
Was Knighthood's dauntless deed and Beauty's 
matchless eye. 

O wake once more ! how rude soe'er the hand 
That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray ; 
O wake once more ! though scarce my skill 
command 
Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay : 
Though harsh and faint, and soon to die 
away, 
And all unworthy of thy nobler strain, 

Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, 
The wizard note has not been touched in vain. 
Then silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake 
aofain ! 



The stag at eve had drunk his fill. 
Where danced the moon on Monan's rill. 
And deep his midnight lair had made 
In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; 
But when the sun his beacon red 
Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 25 

The deep-mouthM bloodhound's heavy bay 
Resounded up the rocky way, 
And faint, from farther distance borne. 
Were heard the clangino: hoof and horn. 



As Chief, who hears his warder call, 
"To arms! the foemen storm the wall," 
The antler'd monarch of the waste 
Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. 
But ere his fleet career he took, 
The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; 
Like crested leader proud and high, 
Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky ; 
A moment gazed adown the dale, 
A moment snuff 'd the tainted gale, 
A moment listened to the cry 
That thicken'd as the chase drew nigh ; 
Then, as the headmost foes appeared, 
With one brave bound the copse he cleared, 
And, stretching forward free and far. 
Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. 

III. 

Yeird on the view the opening pack ; 
Roek, glen, and cavern paid them back ; 
To many a mingled sound at once 
The awaken'd mountain gave response. 



26 THE CHASE. 

An hundred dogs bay'd deep and strong, 
Clatter'd an hundred steeds along, 
Their peal the merry horns rung out. 
An hundred voices joined the shout ; 
With hark and whoop and wild halloo. 
No rest Benvoirlich^s echoes knew. 
Far from the tumult fled the roe, 
Close in her covert cower'd the doe ; 
The falcon, from her cairn on high. 
Cast on the rout a wondering eye, 
Till far beyond her piercing ken 
The hurricane had swept the glen. 
Faint, and more faint, its failing din 
Returned from cavern, cliff, and linn. 
And silence settled, wide and still, 
On the lone wood and mighty hill. 



IV. 



Less loud the sounds of sylvan war 
Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, 
And roused the cavern, where, 't is told, 
A giant made his den of old ; 
For ere that steep ascent was won, 
High in his pathway hung the sun, 
And many a gallant, stav'd perforce. 
Was fain to breathe his faltering horse. 



THE LADY OF THE ^LAKE. 2/ 

And of the trackers of the deer 
Scarce half the lessening pack was near ; 
So shrewdly on the mountain-side 
Had the bold burst their mettle tried. 



The noble stag was pausing now 
Upon the mountain's southern brow, 
Where broad extended, far beneath. 
The varied realms of fair Menteith. 
With anxious eye he wandered o'er 
Mountain and meadow, moss and moor, 
And ponderd refuge from his toil 
By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. 
But nearer was the copsewood gray. 
That waved and wept on Loch Achray, 
And mingled with the pine-trees blue 
On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. 
Fresh vigor with the hope return'd ; 
With flying foot the heath he spurn'd. 
Held westward with unwearied race, 
And left behind the panting chase. 

VI 

'T were long to tell what steeds gave o'er, 
As s^vept the hunt through Cambusmore ; 
What reins were tightened in despair. 
When rose Benledi's ridge in air : 



28 THE CHASE. 

Who flagg'd upon Bochastle's heath, 
Who shunn'd to stem the flooded Teith, 
For twice that day, from shore to shore, 
The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. 
Few were the stragglers, following far, 
That reached the lake of Vennachar ; 
And when the Brigg of Turk was won, 
The headmost horseman rode alone. 



VII. 



Alone, but with unbated zeal, 

That horseman plied the scourge and steel ; 

For jaded now% and spent with toil, 

Emboss'd with foam, and dark with soil, 

While every gasp with sobs he drew% 

The laboring stag strain'd full in view. 

Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed. 

Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed. 

Fast on his flying traces came, 

And all but won that desperate game ; 

For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch, 

Vindictive toil'd the bloodhounds staunch ; 

Nor nearer might the dogs attain. 

Nor farther might the quarry strain. 

Thus up the margin of the lake, 

Between the precipice and brake, 

O'er stock and rock their race they take. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 29 

VIII. 

The Hunter mark'd that mountain high, 
The lone lake's western boundary, 
And deem'd the stag must turn to bay, 
Where that huge rampart barr'd the way ; 
Already glorying in the prize. 
Measured his antlers with his eyes ; 
For the death-wound and death-halloo 
Muster'd his breath, his whinyard drew; — 
But thundering as he came prepared. 
With ready arm and weapon bared, 
The wily quarry shunn'd the shock. 
And turn'd him from the opposing rock ; 
Then, dashing down a darksome glen. 
Soon lost to hound and Hunter's ken. 
In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook 
His solitary refuge took. 
There, while, close couch'd, the thicket shed 
Cold dews and wild flowers on his head, 
He heard the baffled dogs in vain 
Rave through the hollow pass amain, 
Chiding the rocks that yelPd again. 

IX. 

Close on the hounds the Hunter came, 
To cheer them on the vanished game ; 
But,* stumbling in the rugged dell. 
The orallant horse exhausted fell. 



30 THE CHASE. 

The impatient rider strove in vain 
To rouse him with the spur and rein. 
For the good steed, his labors o'er, 
Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more 
Then, touch'd with pity and remorse, 
He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse. 
" I little thought, when first thy rein 
I slacked upon the banks of Seine, 
That Highland eagle e'er should feed 
On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed ! 
Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day, 
That costs thy life, my gallant gray ! " 



X. 



Then through the dell his horn resounds. 
From vain pursuit to call the hounds. 
Back limp'd, with slow and crippled pace, 
The sulky leaders of the chase ; 
Close to their master's side they press'd, 
With drooping tail and humbled crest ; 
But still the dingle's hollow throat 
Prolong'd the swelling bugle-note. 
The owlets started from their dream, 
The eagles answer'd with their scream, 
Round and around the sounds were cast, 
Till echo seem'd an answering blast ; 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE, 3 1 

And on the Hunter hied his way, 
To join some comrades of the day ; 
Yet often paused, so strange the road. 
So wondrous were the scenes it show'd. 



XI. 



The western waves of ebbing day 
Roird o'er the glen their level ray ; 
Each purple peak, each flinty spire, 
Was bathed in floods of living fire. 
But not a setting beam could glow 
Within the dark ravines below. 
Where twined the path in shadow hid, 
Round many a rocky pyramid, 
Shooting abruptly from the dell 
Its thunder-splinter'd pinnacle ; 
Round many an insulated mass, 
The native bulwarks of the pass. 
Huge as the tower which builders vain 
Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. 
The rocky summits, split and rent, 
Form'd turret, dome, or battlement, 
Or seem'd fantastically set 
With cupola or minaret. 
Wild crests as pagod ever deck'd, 
Or mosque of Eastern architect. 
Nor were these earth-born castles bare, 
Nor lack'd they many a banner fair ; 



32 THE CHASE. 

For, from their shiver''d brows displayed, 
Far o'er the unfathomable glade, 
All twinkling with the dewdrop sheen, 
The brier-rose fell in streamers green, - 
And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes. 
Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. 



XII. 



Boon nature scattered, free and wild, 
Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. 
Here eglantine embalm'd the air, 
Hawthorne and hazel mingled there ; 
The primrose pale and violet flower 
Found in each clift a narrow bower ; 
Fox-glove and night-shade, side by side. 
Emblems of punishment and pride, 
Group'd their dark hues with every stain 
The weather-beaten crags retain. 
With boughs that quaked at every breath, 
Gray birch and aspen wept beneath ; 
Aloft, the ash and warrior oak 
Cast anchor in the rifted rock'; 
And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung 
His shattered trunk, and frequent flung, 
Where seem'd the cliffs to meet on high, 
His boughs athwart the narrow'd sky. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 33 

Highest of all, where white peaks glanced, 
Where glist'ning streamers waved and danced, 
The wanderers eye could barely view 
The summer heaven's delicious blue ; 
So wondrous wild, the whole might seem 
The scenery of a fairy dream. 



XIII. 

Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep 
A narrow inlet, still and deep. 
Affording scarce such breadth of brim 
As served the wild duck's brood to swim. 
Lost for a space, through thickets veering.. 
But broader when again appearing. 
Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face 
Could on the dark-blue mirror trace ; 
And farther as the Hunter stray'd 
Still broader sweep its channels made. 
The shaggy mounds no longer stood. 
Emerging from entangled wood. 
But, wave-encircled, seem'd to float. 
Like castle girdled with its moat ; 
Yet broader floods extending still 
Divide them from their parent hill, 
Till each, retiring, claims to be 
An islet in an inland sea. 



34 THE CHASE. 



XIV. 

And now, to issue from the glen, 

No pathway meets the wanderer's ken ; 

Unless he climb, with footing nice, 

A far projecting precipice. 

The broom's tough roots his ladder made, 

The hazel saplings lent their aid ; 

And thus an airy point he won, 

Where, gleaming with the setting sun. 

One burnish'd sheet of living gold, 

Loch Katrine lay beneath him roU'd ; 

In all her length far winding lay, 

With promontory, creek, and bay. 

And islands that, empui-pled bright. 

Floated amid the livelier light, 

And mountains, that like giants stand. 

To sentinel enchanted land. 

High on the south, huge Benvenue 

Down to the lake in masses threw 

Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurl'd, 

The fragments of an earlier world ; 

A wildering forest feather'd o'er 

His ruin'd sides and summit hoar. 

While on the north, through middle air, 

Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 35 



XV. 



From the steep promotory gazed 

The stranger, raptured and amazed. 

And, "What a scene were here," he cried, 

" For princely pomp, or churchman's pride! 

On this bold brow, a lordly tower ; 

In that soft vale, a lady's bower ; 

On yonder meadow, far away, 

The turrets of a cloister gray ; 

How blithely might the bugle-horn 

Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn ! 

How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute 

Chime, when the groves were still and mute ! 

And, when the midnight moon should lave 

Her forehead in the silver wave. 

How solemn on the ear would come 

The holy matins' distant hum. 

While the deep peal's commanding tone 

Should wake, in yonder islet lone, 

A sainted hermit from his cell, 

To drop a bead with every knell — 

And bugle, lute, and bell, and all, 

Should each bewilder'd stranger call 

To friendly feast, and lighted hall. 



36 THE CHASE. 



XVI. 

" Blithe were it then to wander here ! 
But now, — beshrew yon nimble deer, — 
Like that same hermit's, thin and spare. 
The copse must give my evening fare ; 
Some mossy bank my couch must be. 
Some rustling oak my canopy. 
Yet pass we that : the war and chase 
Give little choice of resting-place ; — 
A summer night, in greenwood spent. 
Were but to-morrow's merriment : 
But hosts may in these wilds abound. 
Such as are better miss'd than found ; 
To meet with Highland plunderers here 
Were worse than loss of steed or deer. — 
I am alone : — my bugle strain 
May call some straggler of the train ; 
Or, fall the worst that may betide, 
Ere now this falchion has been tried." 



XVII. 

But scarce again his horn he wound, 
When lo ! forth starting at the sound, 
From underneath an aged oak 
That slanted from the islet rock, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 37 

A damsel guider of its way, 

A little skiff shot to the bay, 

That round the promontory steep 

Led its deep line in graceful sweep, 

Eddying, in almost viewless wave, 

The weeping-willow twig to lave, 

And kiss, with whispering sound and slow. 

The beach of pebbles bright as snow. 

The boat had touched this silver strand 

Just as the Hunter left his stand 

And stood concealed amid the brake, 

To view this Lady of the Lake. 

The maiden paused, as if again 

She thought to catch the distant strain. 

With head up-raised, and look intent. 

And eye and ear attentive bent. 

And locks flung back, and lips apart, 

Like monument of Grecian art. 

In listening mood, she seem'd to stand 

The guardian Naiad of the strand. 



XVIII. 

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 

A nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 

Of finer form, or lovelier face ! 

What though the sun, with ardent frown. 

Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown. 



38 THE CHASE. 

The sportive toil, which, short and light, 

Had dyed her glowing hue so bright, 

Served too in hastier swell to show 

Short glimpses of a breast of snow : 

What though no rule of courtly grace 

To measured mood had trained her pace, — 

A foot more light, a step more true. 

Ne'er from the heath-flower dashM the dew ; 

E'en the slight harebell raised its head. 

Elastic from her airy tread : 

What though upon her speech there hung 

The accents of the mountain tongue, — 

Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear. 

The listener held his breath to hear ! 



XIX. 

A chieftain's daughter seem'd the maid ; 
Her satin snood, her silken plaid, 
Her golden brooch, such birth betray'd. 
And seldom was a snood amid 
Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid. 
Whose glossy black to shame might brin< 
The plumage of the raven's wing ; 
And seldom o'er a breast so fair 
Mantled a plaid with modest care, 
And never brooch the folds combined 
Above a heart more good and kind. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 39 

Her kindness and her worth to spy, 

You need but gaze on Ellen's eye ; 

Not Katrine, in her mirror blue, 

Gives back the shaggy banks more true, 

Than every free-born glance confessed 

The guileless movements of her breast ; 

Whether joy danced in her dark eye, 

Or woe or pity claimed a sigh, 

Or filial love was glowing there. 

Or meek devotion pour'd a prayer. 

Or tale of injury call'd forth 

The indignant spirit of the North. 

One only passion unreveal'd 

With maiden pride the maid conceaPd, 

Yet not less purely felt the flame ; — 

O need I tell that passion's name? 



XX. 

Impatient of the silent horn. 

Now on the gale her voice was borne : — 

" Father ! '' she cried ; the rocks around 

Loved to prolong the gentle sound. 

Awhile she paused, no answer came, — 

" Malcolm, was thine the blast?" the name 

Less resolutely utter'd fell. 

The echoes could not catch the swell. 

"A stranger I," the Huntsman said. 

Advancing from the hazel shade. 



40 THE CHASE. 

The maid, alarm'd, with hasty oar 
Push'd her light shallop from the shore, 
And when a space was gain'd between, 
Closer she drew her bosom's screen ; 
(So forth the startled swan would swing, 
So turn to prune his ruffled wing) . 
Then safe, though fluttered and amazed. 
She paused, and on the stranger gazed. 
Not his the form, nor his the eye. 
That youthful maidens wont to fly. 



XXI. 

On his bold visage middle age 

Had slightly pressed its signet sage. 

Yet had not quenched the open truth 

And fiery vehemence of youth ; 

Forward and frolic glee was there, 

The will to do, the soul to dare. 

The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, 

Of hasty love, or headlong ire. 

His limbs were cast in manly mould, 

For hardy sports or contest bold ; 

And though in peaceful garb array'd, 

And weaponless, except his blade. 

His stately mien as well implied 

A high-born heart, a martial pride. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

As if a baron's crest he wore, 

And, sheath'd in armor, trode the shore. 

Sh'ghting the petty need he show'd, 

He told of his benighted road ; 

His ready speech flow'd fair and free. 

In phrase of gentlest courtesy ; 

Yet seem'd that tone, and gesture bland, 

Less used to sue than to command. 



XXII. 

Awhile the maid the stranger eyed, 
And, reassured, at length replied. 
That Highland halls were open still 
To wilder'd wanderers of the hill. 
*' Nor think you unexpected come 
To yon lone isle, our desert home ; 
Before the heath had lost the dew, 
This morn, a couch was pulTd for you ; 
On yonder mountain's purple head 
Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled, 
And our broad nets have swept the mere, 
To furnish forth your evening cheer." — 
" Now, by the rood, my lovely maid, 
Your courtesy hath err'd," he said ; 
" No right have I to claim, misplaced, 
The welcome of expected guest. 



42 THE CHASE. 

A wanderer, here by fortune tost, 
My way, my friends, my courser lost, 
I ne'er before, believe me, fair, 
Have ever drawn your mountain air, 
Till on this lake's romantic strand 
I found a fay in fairy-land ! " — 



*' I well believe,'' the maid replied, 

As her light skiff approach'd the side, — 

" I well believe that ne'er before 

Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore ; 

But yet, as far as yesternight. 

Old Allan-Bane foretold your plight, — 

A gray-hair'd sire, whose eye intent 

Was on the vision'd future bent. 

He saw your steed, a dappled gray. 

Lie dead beneath the birchen way ; 

Painted exact your form and mien, 

Your hunting-suit of Lincoln green, 

That tassell'd horn, so gayly gilt. 

That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, 

That cap with heron plumage trim, 

And yon two hounds so dark and grim. 

He bade that all should ready be. 

To grace a guest of fair degree ; 

But light I held his prophecy. 

And deem'd it was my father's horn, 

Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne." 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 43 
XXIV. 

The stranger smiled : — " Since to your home 

A destined errant-knight I come, 

Announced by prophet sooth and old, 

Doom'd, doubtless, for achievement bold, 

ril lightly front each high emprise, 

For one kind glance of those bright eyes. 

Permit me, first, the task to guide 

Your fairy frigate o'er the tide." 

The maid, with smile suppressed and sly, 

The toil unwonted saw him try ; 

For seldom, sure, if e'er before, 

His noble hand had grasp'd an oar : 

Yet with main strength his strokes he drew, 

And o'er the lake the shallop flew ; 

With heads erect, and whimpering cry, 

The hounds behind their passage ply. 

Nor frequent does the bright oar break 

The darkening mirror of the lake, 

Until the rocky isle they reach, 

And moor their shallop on the beach. 



The stranger view'd the shore around ; 
'T was all so close with copsewood bound. 
Nor track nor pathway might declare 
That human foot frequented there, 



44 THE CHASE. 

Until the mountain-maiden show'd 
A clambering unsuspected road, 
That winded through the tangled screen, 
And open'd on a narrow green, 
Where weeping birch and willow round 
With their long fibres swept the ground. 
Here, for retreat in dangerous hour, 
Some chief had framed a rustic bower. 



XXVI. 

It was a lodge of ample size, 

But strange of structure and device ; 

Of such materials, as around 

The workman's hand had readiest found. 

Lopp'd of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, 

And by the hatchet rudely squared. 

To give the walls their destined height. 

The sturdy oak and ash unite ; 

While moss and clay and leaves combined 

To fence each crevice from the wind. 

The lighter pine-trees, overhead. 

Their slender length for rafters spread, 

And withered heath and rushes dry 

Supplied a russet canopy. 

Due westward, fronting to the green, 

A rural portico was seen. 

Aloft on native pillars borne. 

Of mountain fir with bark unshorn, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 45 

Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine 
The ivy and Idaean vine, 
The clematis, the favor'd flower 
Which boasts the name of virgin-bower. 
And every hardy plant could bear 
Loch Katrine's keen and searching air. 
An instant in this porch she stayed, 
And gayly to the stranger said, — 
"On heaven and on thy lady call. 
And enter the enchanted hall ! '' 



" My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, 

My gentle guide, in following thee.'" — 

He crossed the threshold — and a clang 

Of angry steel that instant rang. 

To his bold brow his spirrt rushed. 

But soon for vain alarm he blush'd, 

When on the floor he saw display'd, 

Cause of the din, a naked blade. 

Dropped from the sheath, that, careless flum 

Upon a stag's huge antlers swung ; 

For all around, the walls to grace, 

Hung trophies of the fight or chase : 

A target there, a bugle here, 

A battle-axe, a hunting-spear. 

And broadswords, bows, and arrows store, 

With the tusk'd trophies of the boar. 



46 THE CHASE. 

Here grins the wolf as when he died, 
And there the wild-cat's brindled hide 
The frontlet of the elk adorns, 
Or mantles o'er the bison's horns ; 



And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, 
With otter's fur and seal's unite. 
In rude and uncouth tapestry all. 
To garnish forth the sylvan hall. 



The wondering stranger round him gazed. 

And next the f^iUen weapon raised : — 

Few were the arms whose sinewy strength 

Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. 

And as the brand he poised and sway'd, 

" I never knew but one," he said, 

*' Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield 

A blade like this in battle-field." 

She sigh'd, then smiled and took the word : 

"You see the guardian champion's sword; 

As light it trembles in his hand 

As in my grasp a hazel wand ; 

My sire's tall form might grace the part 

Of Ferragus, or Ascabart ; 

But in the absent giant's hold 

Are women now, and menials old." 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 4/ 
XXIX. 

The mistress of the mansion came, 

Mature of age, a graceful dame ; 

Whose easy step and stately port 

Had well become a princely court, 

To whom, though more than kindred knew. 

Young Ellen gave a mother's due. 

Meet welcome to her guest she made. 

And every courteous rite was paid 

That hospitality could claim. 

Though all unask'd his birth and name. 

Such then^he reverence to a guest. 

That fellest foe might join the feast, 

And from his deadliest foeman's door 

Unquestion'd turn, the banquet o'er. 

At length his rank the stranger names, 

"The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz- 

James ; 
Lord of a barren heritage. 
Which his brave sires, from age to age 
By their good swords had held with toil ; 
His sire had fall'n in such turmoil, 
And he, God wot, was forced to stand 
Oft for his right with blade in hand. 
This morning with Lord Moray's train, 
He chased a stalwart stag in vain. 
Outstripped his comrades, miss'd the deer. 
Lost his sfood steed, and wanderYl here." 



48 THE CHASE. 



Fain would the Knight in turn require 
The name and state of Ellen's sire. 
Well showed the elder lady's mien 
That courts and cities she had seen ; 
Ellen, though more her looks display'd 
The simple grace of sylvan maid, 
In speech and gesture, form and face, 
Show'd she was come of gentle i^ace ; 
'T were strange in ruder rank to find 
Such looks, such manners, and such mind. 
Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, 
Dame Margaret heard with silence grave ; 
Or Ellen, innocently gay, 
Turn'd all inquiry light away : — 
" Weird women we ! by dale and down 
We dwell, afar from tower and town. 
We stem the flood, we ride the blast. 
On wandering knights our spells we cast ; 
While viewless minstrels touch the string, 
T is thus our charmed rhymes we sing," 
She sung, and still a harp unseen 
FilPd up the symphony between. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 49 



XXXI. 
SONG. 

" Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; 
Dream of battled fields no more, 

Days of danger, nights of waking. 
In our isle's enchanted hall 

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, 
Fairy strains of music fall. 

Every sense in slumber dewing. 
Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, 
Dream of fighting fields no more ; 
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 
Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 

" No rude sound shall reach thine ear, 

Armor's clang, or war-steed champing, 
Trump nor pibroch summon here 

Mustering clan or squadron tramping. 
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 

At the daybreak from the fallow, 
And the bittern sound his drum, 

Booming from the sedgy shallow. 
Ruder sounds shall none be near, 
Guards nor warders challenge here, 
Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing. 
Shouting clans or squadrons stamping." 



50 THE CHASE. 

XXXII. 

She paused, — then, blushing, led the lay 
To grace the stranger of the day. 
Her mellow notes awhile prolong 
The cadence of the flowing song, 
Till to her lips in measured frame 
The minstrel verse spontaneous came. 

SONG CONTINUED. 

"Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, 

While our slumbrous spells assail ye, 
Dream not, with the rising sun. 

Bugles here shall sound reveille. 
Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; 

Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying ; 
Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen 

How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done, 
Think not of the rising sun, 
For at dawning to assail ye 
Here no bugles sound reveille." 

XXXIII. 

The hall was cleared, — the stranger's bed 
Was there of mountain heather spread, 
Where oft an hundred guests had lain, 
And dream'd their forest sports again. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 5 1 

But vainly did the heath-flower shed 

Its moorland fragrance round his head ; 

Not Ellen's spell had lull'd to rest 

The fever of his troubled breast. 

In broken dreams the image rose 

Of varied perils, pains, and woes : 

His steed now flounders in the brake, 

Now sinks his barge upon the lake ; 

Now, leader of a broken host. 

His standard falls, his honor's lost. 

Then, — from my couch may heavenly might 

Chase that worse phantom of the night ! — 

Again return d the scenes of youth, 

Of confident undoubting truth ; 

Again his soul he interchanged 

With friends whose hearts were long estranged. 

They come, in dim procession led, 

The cold, the faithless, and the dead ; 

As warm each hand, each brow as gay. 

As if they parted yesterday, 

And doubt distracts him at the view — 

O were his senses false or true? 

Dream'd he of death, or broken vow, 

Or is it all a vision now? 

XXXIV. 

At length, with Ellen in a grove 

He seem'd to walk, and speak of love ; 

She listened with a blush and sigh, 

His suit was warm, his hopes were high. 



52 THE CHASE. 

He sought her yielded hand to clasp, 

And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : 

The phantom's sex was changed and gone 

Upon its head a hemlet shone ; 

Slowly enlarged to giant size, 

With darkenM cheek and threatening eyes, 

The grisly visage, stern and hoar, 

To Ellen still a likeness bore. — 

He woke, and, panting with affright, 

Recaird the vision of the night. 

The hearth^'s decaying brands were red, 

And deep and dusky lustre shed. 

Half showing, half concealing, all 

The uncouth trophies of the hall. 

Mid those the stranger fix'd his eye 

Where that huge falchion hung on high. 

And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng. 

Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along, 

Until, the giddy whirl to cure. 

He rose, and sought the moonshine pure. 



The wild rose, eglantine, and broom, 
Wasted around their rich perfume : 
The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm, 
The aspens slept beneath the calm ; 
The silver light, with quivering glance, 
Play'd on the water's still expanse, — 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 53 

Wild were the heart whose passion's sway 

Could rage beneath the sober ray ! 

He felt its calm, that warrior guest, 

While thus he communed with his breast: — 

Why is it, at each turn I trace 

Some memory of that exiled race? 

Can I not mountain-maiden spy, 

But she must bear the Douglas eye? 

Can I not view a Highland brand. 

But it must match the Douglas hand? 

Can I not frame a fever'd dream. 

But still the Douglas is the theme? 

I '11 dream no more, — by manly mind 

Not even in sleep is will resign'd. 

My midnight orisons said o'er, 

I '11 turn to rest, and dream no more." — 

His midnight orisons he told, 

A prayer with every bead of gold, 

Consign'd to heaven his cares and woes, 

And sunk in undisturbed repose ; 

Until the heath-cock shrilly crew. 

And morning dawned on Ben venue. 



CANTO THE SECOND. 



CANTO THE SECOND. 



THE ISLAND. 



At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 

'T is morning prompts the linnet^s blithest lay, 
All Nature^s children feel the matin spring 

Of life reviving, with reviving day; 

And while yon little bark glides down the bay, 
Wafting the stranger on his way again. 

Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray : 
And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, 
Mix'd with the sounding harp, O white-haired 
Allan-Bane ! 



II. 



SONG. 

" Not faster yonder rowers' might 
Flings from their oars the spray, 
Not faster yonder rippling bright, 
That tracks the shallop's course in light. 
Melts in the lake away, 
57 



58 THE ISLAND. 

Than men* from memory erase 

The benefits of former days ; . 

Then, stranger, go ! good speed the while, 

Nor think again of the lonely isle. 

" High place to thee in royal court, 

High place in battled line. 
Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport, 
Where beauty sees the brave resort, 

The honored meed be thine ! 
True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, 
Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, 
And lost in love'^s and friendship's smile 
Be memory of the lonely isle. 



III. 

SONG CONTINUED. 

*' But if beneath yon southern sky 

A plaided stranger roam, 
Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh. 
And sunken cheek and heavy eye, 

Pine for his Highland home ; 
Then, warrior, then be thine to show 
The care that soothes a wanderer's woe 
Remember then thy hap erewhile, 
A stranger in the lonely isle. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 59 

'* Or if on life's uncertain main 

Mishap shall mar thy sail ; 
If faithful, wise, and brave in vain. 
Woe, want, and exile thou sustain 

Beneath the fickle gale ; 
Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, 
On thankless courts, or friends estranged. 
But come where kindred worth shall smile 
To greet thee in the lonely isle." 



IV. 



As died the sounds upon the tide. 
The shallop reached the mainland side ; 
And ere his onward way he took, 
The stranger cast a lingering look. 
Where easily his eye might reach 
The Harper on the islet beach, 
Reclined against a blighted tree. 
As wasted, gray, and worn as he. 
To minstrel meditation given, 
His reverend brow was raised to heaven. 
As from the rising sun to claim 
A sparkle of inspiring flame. 
His hand, reclined upon the wire, 
Seem'd watching the awakening fire; 
So still he sate, as those who wait 
Till judgment speak the doom of fate ; 



6o THE ISLAND. 

So still, as if no breeze might dare 
To lift one lock of hoary hair ; 
So still, as life itself were fled 
In the last sound his harp had sped. 



Upon a rock with lichens wild, 
Beside him Ellen sate and smiled. 
Smiled she to see the stately drake 
Lead forth his fleet upon the lake, 
While her vex'd spaniel, from the beach, 
Bay'd at the prize beyond his reach ? 
Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows. 
Why deepen'd on her cheek the rose? — 
Forgive, forgive, Fidelity! 
Perchance the maiden §miled to see 
Yon parting lingerer wave adieu, 
And stop and turn to wave anew ; 
And, lovely ladies, ere your ire 
Condemn the heroine of my lyre, 
Show me the fair would scorn to spy 
And prize such conquest of her eye ! 

VI. 

While yet he loiterVl on the spot, 
It seem'd as Ellen mark'd him not ; 
But when he turned him to the glade, 
One courteous parting sign she made ; 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 6 1 

And after, oft the Knight would say, 

That not when prize of festal day 

Was dealt him by the brightest fair 

Who e'er wore jewel in her hair, 

So highly did his bosom swell 

As at that simple mute farewell. — 

Now, with a trusty mountain-guide, 

And his dark stag-hounds by his side. 

He parts, — the maid unconscious still, 

WatchYl him wind slowly round the hill ; 

But when his stately form was hid, 

The guardian in her bosom chid, — 

" Thy Malcolm ! vain and selfish maid !" 

'T was thus upbraiding conscience said, — 

" Not so had Malcolm idly hung 

On the smooth phrase of Southern tongue; 

Not so had Malcolm strain'd his eye 

Another step than thine to spy. — 

Wake, Allan-Bane," aloud she cried 

To the old Minstrel by her side, — 

" Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! 

I '11 give thy harp heroic theme. 

And warm thee with a noble name : 

Pour forth the glory of the Graeme ! " 

Scarce from her lip the work had rush'd. 

When deep the conscious maiden blush'd ; 

For of his clan, in hall and bower. 

Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower. 



62 THE ISLAND. 



VII. 



The Minstrel waked his harp, — three times 

Arose the well-known martial chimes, 

And thrice their high heroic pride 

In melancholy murmurs died. 

"Vainly thou bid'st, O noble maid," 

Clasping his withered hands, he said, 

♦' Vainly thou bid'st me wake the strain, 

Though all unwont to bid in vain. 

Alas ! than mine a mightier hand 

Has tuned my harp, my strings has spanned ! 

I touch the chords of joy, but low 

And mournful answer notes of woe ; 

And the proud march which victors tread, 

Sinks in the wailing for the dead. 

O well for me if mine alone 

That dirge's deep prophetic tone ! 

If, as my tuneful fathers said. 

This harp, which erst Saint Modan sway'd, 

Can thus its master's fate foretell. 

Then welcome be the Minstrers knell ! 

VIII. 

" But ah ! dear lady, thus it sigh'd, 
The eve thy sainted mother died ; 
And such the sounds which, while 1 strove 
To wake a lav of war or love. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 63 

Came marring all the festal mirth, 

Appalling me who gave them birth, 

And, disobedient to my call, 

Waird loud through Bothwell's banner'd hall, 

Ere Douglasses, to ruin driven, 

Were exiled from their native heaven. — 

Oh, if yet worse mishap and woe 

My master''s house must undergo, 

Or aught but weal to Ellen fair 

Brood in these accents of despair, 

No future bard, sad Harp ! shall fling 

Triumph or rapture from thy string ; 

One short, one final strain shall flow, 

Fraught with unutterable woe ; 

Then shiver'd shall thy fragments lie, 

Thy master cast him down and die ! '' 



IX 

Soothing she answered him, — " Assuage, 

Mine honor'd friend, the fears of age ; 

All melodies to thee are known 

That harp has rung or pipe has blown, 

In Lowland vale or Highland glen, 

From Tweed to Spey, — what marvel, then. 

At times unbidden notes should rise, 

Confusedly bound in memory's ties, 

Entangling, as they rush along. 

The war-march with the funeral song? — 



64 THE ISLAND. 

Small ground is now for boding fear ; 

Obscure, but safe, we rest us here. 

My sire, in native virtue great, 

Resigning lordship, lands, and state, 

Not then to fortune more resigned 

Than yonder oak might give the wind ; 

The graceful foliage storms may reave, 

The noble stem they cannot grieve. 

For me," — she stoop'd, and, looking round, 

PluckM a blue harebell from the ground, — 

" For me, whose memory scarce conveys 

An image of more splendid days, 

This Httle flower, that loves the lea, 

May well my simple emblem be ; 

It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose 

That in the King's own garden grows ; 

And when I place it in my hair, 

Allan, a bard is bound to swear 

He ne'er saw coronet so fair." 

Then playfully the chaplet wild 

She wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled. 



X. 



Her smile, her speech, with winning sway. 
Wiled the old Harper's mood away. 
With such a look as hermits throw 
When angels stoop to soothe their woe. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 65 

He gazed, till fond regret and pride 
Thriird to a tear, then thus replied : 
" Loveliest and best ! thou little know'st 
The rank, the honors, thou hast lost ! 
O might I live to see thee grace, 
In Scotland's court, thy birthright place, 
To see my favorite's step advance. 
The lightest in the courtly dance. 
The cause of every gallant's sigh, 
And leading star of every eye, 
And theme of every minstrel's art, 
The lady of the Bleeding Heart!" — 



XL 



" Fair dreams are these," the maiden cried, 
(Light was her accent, yet she sigh'd,) 
" Yet is this mossy rock to me 
Worth splendid chair and canopy ; 
Nor would my footstep spring more gay 
In courtly dance than blithe strathspey. 
Nor half so pleased mine ear incline 
To royal minstrel's lay as thine. 
And then for suitors proud and high, 
To bend before my conquering eye, — 
Thou, flattering bard ! thyself wilt say 
That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. 



66 THE ISLAND. 

The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride, 
The terror of Loch Lomond's side, 
Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 
A Lennox foray — for a day." 



XII. 

The ancient bard her glee repressed : 

" 111 hast thou chosen theme for jest ! 

For who, through all this western wild, 

Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled? 

In Holy-Rood a knight he slew ; 

I saw, when back the dirk he drew. 

Courtiers give place before the stride 

Of the undaunted homicide ; 

And since, though outlawed, hath his hand 

Full sternly kept his mountain land. 

Who else dared give — ah ! woe the day, 

That I such hated truth should say — 

The Douglas, like a stricken deer 

Disown'd by every noble peer. 

Even the rude refuge we have here? 

Alas, this wild marauding chief 

Alone might hazard our relief. 

And, now thy maiden charms expand 

Looks for his guerdon in thy hand ; 

Full soon may dispensation sought. 

To back his suit, from Rome be brought. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 6/ 

Then, though an exile on the hill. 
Thy father, as the Douglas, still 
Be held in reverence and fear ; 
And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear 
That thou might'st guide with silken thread, 
Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread, 
Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! 
Thy hand is on a lion's mane." — 



XIII. 

'* Minstrel," the maid replied, — and high 
Her father's soul glanced from her eye, — 
" My debts to Roderick's house I know : 
All that a mother could bestow 
To Lady Margaret's care I owe. 
Since first an orphan in the wild 
She sorrowed o'er her sister's child ; 
To her brave chieftain son, from ire 
Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire, 
A deeper, holier debt is owed ; 
And could I pay it with my blood, 
Allan ! Sir Roderick should command 
iMy blood, my life, — but not my hand. 
Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell 
A votaress in Maronnan's cell ; 
Rather through realms beyond the sea, 
Seeking the world's cold charity, 



68 THE ISLAND. 



Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, 
And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, 
An outcast pilgrim will she rove. 
Than wed the man she cannot love. 



XIV. 

" Thou shakest, good friend, thy tresses gray: 

That pleading look, what can it say 

But what I own? — I grant him brave, 

But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave ; 

And generous — save vindictive mood. 

Or jealous transport, chafe his blood : 

I grant him true to friendly band, 

As his claymore is to his hand ; 

But O ! that very blade of steel 

More mercy for a foe would feel ; 

I grant him liberal, to fling 

Among his clan the wealth they bring. 

When back by lake and glen they wind. 

And in the Lowland leave behind. 

Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, 

A mass of ashes slaked with blood. 

The hand that for my father fought, 

I honor, as his daughter ought ; 

But can I clasp it reeking red 

From peasants slaughter'd in their shed? 

No ! wildly while his virtues gleam. 

They make his passions darker seem. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 69 

And flash along his spirit high 

Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. 

While yet a child, — and children know, 

Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, — 

I shuddered at his brow of gloom, 

His shadowy plaid, and sable plume ; 

A maiden grown, I ill could bear 

His haughty mien and lordly air; 

But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim, 

In serious mood, to Roderick's name, 

I thrill with anguish, or, if e'er 

A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 

To change such odious theme were best : 

What think'st thou of our stranger guest?" — 



XV. 

"What think I of him? — woe the while 
That brought such wanderer to our isle ! 
Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 
For Tine-man forged by fairy lore. 
What time he leagued, no longer foes. 
His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, 
Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow 
The footstep of a secret foe. 
If courtly spy hath harbor'd here, 
What may we for the Douglas fear? 
Wliat for this island, deem'd of old 
Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold? 



yo THE ISLAND. 

If neither spy nor foe, I pray 
What yet may jealous Roderick say ? — 
Nay, wave not thy disdainful head, 
Bethink thee of the discord dread 
That kindled when at Beltane game 
Thou led'st the dance with Malcolm Graeme ; 
Still, though thy sire the peace renewed. 
Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud ; 
Beware! — But hark, what sounds are these? 
My dull ears catch no faltering breeze, 
No weeping birch nor aspens wake, 
Nor breath is dimpling in the lake ; 
Still is the canna's hoary beard. 
Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — 
And hark again ! some pipe of war 
Sends the bold pibroch from afar." 

XVI. 

Far up the lengthen'd lake were spied 
Four darkening specks upon the tide, 
That, slow enlarging on the view, 
Four manned and masted barges grew. 
And, bearing downwards from Glengyle, 
Steer'd full upon the lonely isle ; 
The point of Brianchoil they passM, 
And, to the windward as they cast, 
Against the sun they gave to shine 
The bold Sir Roderick's banner'd Pine. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. yi 

Nearer and nearer as they bear, 
Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. 
Now might you see the tartans brave, 
And plaids and plumage dance and wave : 
Now see the bonnets sink and rise, 
As his tough oar the rower plies ; 
See, flashing at each sturdy stroke, 
The wave ascending into smoke ; 
See the proud pipers on the bow, 
And mark the gaudy streamers flow 
From their loud chanters down, and sweep 
The furrow'd bosom of the deep. 
As, rushing through the lake amain. 
They pliedjthe ancient Highland strain. 

XVII. 

Ever, as on they bore, more loud 

And louder rung the pibroch proud. 

At first the sound, by distance tame, 

Mellow'd along the waters came. 

And, lingering long by cape and bay, 

Wail'd every harsher note away, 

Then bursting bolder on the ear. 

The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear ; 

Those thrilling sounds, that call the might 

Of old Clan- Alpine to the fight. 

Thick beat the rapid notes, as when 

The mustering hundreds shake the glen, 



72 THE ISLAND. 

And hurrying at the signal dread, 
The batter'd earth returns their tread. 
Then prehide light, of livelier tone, 
Expressed their merry marching on, 
Ere peal of closing battle rose. 
With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows ; 
And mimic din of stroke and ward, 
As broadsword upon target jarr'd ; 
And groaning pause, ere yet again. 
Condensed, the battle yell'd amain ; 
The rapid charge, the rallying shout, 
Retreat borne headlong into rout, 
And bursts of triumph, to declare 
Clan-Alpine's conquest, — all wpre there. 
Nor ended thus the strain ; but slow 
Sunk in a moan prolonged and low. 
And changed the conquering clarion swell 
For wild lament o'er those that fell. 

XVIII. 

The war-pipes ceased ; but lake and hill 
Were busy with their echoes still ; 
And, when they slept, a vocal strain 
Bade their hoarse chorus wake again. 
While loud an hundred clansmen raise 
Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. 
Each boatman, bending to his oar. 
With measured sweep the burthen bore, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 73 

In such wild cadence as the breeze 
Makes through December's leafless trees. 
The chorus first could Allan know, 
" Roderick Vich Alpine, ho ! iro ! " 
And near and nearer as they row'd, 
Distinct the martial ditty flow'd. 



XIX. 
BOAT SONG. 

Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances ! 

Honor'd and bless'd be the ever-green Pine ! 
Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, 
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line ! 

Heaven send it happy dew. 

Earth lend it sap anew, 
Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow ; 

While every Highland glen 

Sends our shout back agen, 
" Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " 

Ours is no sapling, chance sown by the fountain, 

Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade ; 
When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on 
the mountain. 
The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. 
Moor'd in the rifted rock, 
Proof to the tempest's shock, 



74 THE ISLAND. 

Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow ; 

Menteith and Breadalbane then 

Echo his praise agen, 
*' Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " 



XX. 



Proudly our pibroch has thrilPd in Glen Fruin, 

And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied ; 
Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in 
ruin, 
And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her 
side. 
Widow and Saxon maid 
Long shall lament our raid, 
Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe ; 
Lennox and Leven-glen 
Shake when they hear agen, 
" Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho*! ieroe ! " 

Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands ! 
Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine ! 
O that the rose-bud that graces yon islands 
Were wreathed in a garland around him to 
twine ! 
O that some seedling gem, 
Worthy such noble stem, 
HonorM and bless'd in their shadow might 

ornw ' 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 75 

Loud should Clan-Alpine then 

Ring from her deepmost glen, 

Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " 



XXI. 

With all her joyful female band 

Had Lad}^ Margaret sought the strand. 

Loose on the breeze their tresses flew, 

And high their snowy arms they threw. 

As echoing back with shrill acclaim. 

And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name ; 

While, prompt to please, with mother's art, 

The darling passion of his heart, 

The Dame call'd Ellen to the strand. 

To greet her kinsman ere he land : 

" Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou. 

And shun to wreathe a victor's brow?" 

Reluctantly and slow, the maid 

The unwelcome summoning obey'd, 

And, when a distant bugle rung, 

In the mid-path aside she sprung : — 

" List, Allan-Bane! From mainland cast 

I hear my father's signal blast. 

Be ours," she cried, " the skiff to guide, 

And waft him from the mountain-side." 

Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright. 

She darted to her shallop light. 



^6 THE ISLAND. 

And, eagerly while Roderick scanned, 
For her dear form, his mother's band. 
The islet far behind her lay. 
And she had landed in the bay. 

XXII. 

Some feelings are to mortals given, 

With less of earth in them than heaven : 

And if there be a human tear 

From passion's dross refined and clear, 

A tear so limpid and so meek 

It would not stain an angePs cheek, 

'T is that which pious fathers shed 

Upon a duteous daughter's head. 

And as the Douglas to his breast 

His darling Ellen closely press'd, 

Such holy drops her tresses steep'd, 

Though 't was an hero's eye that weep'd. 

Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue 

Her filial welcomes crowded hung, 

Mark'd she, that fear (affection's proof) 

Still held a graceful youth aloof; 

No, not till Douglas named his name, — 

Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme. 

XXIII. 

Allan, with wistful look the while, 
Mark'd Roderick landing on the isle ; 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 7/ 

His master piteously he eyed, 

Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride, 

Then dash'd with hasty hand away 

From his dimm'd eye the gathering spray ; 

And Douglas, as his hand he laid 

On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said : 

" Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy 

In my poor follower's glistening eye? 

I '11 tell thee : — He recalls the day 

When in my praise he led the lay 

O'er the arch'd gate of Both well proud. 

While many a minstrel answer'd loud, 

When Percy's Norman pennon, won 

In bloody field, before me shone. 

And twice ten knights, the least a name 

As mighty as yon Chief may claim. 

Gracing my pomp, behind me came. 

Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud 

Was I of all that marshall'd crowd. 

Though the weaned crescent own'd my might,. 

And in my train troop'd lord and knight. 

Though Blantyre hymn'd her holiest lays, 

And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise, 

As when this old man's silent tear. 

And this poor maid's affection dear, 

A welcome gave more kind and true 

Than aught my better fortunes knew. 

Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, — 

O ! it out-beggars all I lost ! " 



yS THE ISLAND. 

XXIV. 

Delightful praise ! — like summer rose, 
That brighter in the dew-drop glows, 
The bashful maiden's cheek appeared. 
For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. 
The flush of shame-faced joy to hide, 
The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide ; 
The loved caresses of the maid 
The dogs with crouch and whimper paid ; 
And, at her whistle, on her hand 
The falcon took his favorite stand, 
Closed his dark wing, relaxVI his eye. 
Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. 
And, trust, while in such guise she stood, 
Like fabled Goddess of the Wood, 
That if a father's partial thought 
O'erweigh'd her worth and beauty aught, 
Well might the lover's judgment fail 
To balance with a juster scale ; 
For with each secret glance he stole 
The fond enthusiast sent his soul. 



Of stature fair, and slender frame. 
But firmly knit, was Malcolm Grasme. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 79 

The belted plaid and tartan hose 

Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose ; 

His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, 

Curl'd closely round his bonnet blue. 

Train'd to the chase, his eagle eye 

The ptarmigan in snow could spy : 

Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath, 

He knew, through Lennox and Menteith ; 

Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe. 

When Malcolm bent his sounding bow. 

And scarce that doe, though wing'd with fear, 

Outstripped in speed the mountaineer : 

Right up Ben Lomond could he press, 

And not a sob his toil confess. 

His form accorded with a mind 

Lively and ardent, frank and kind ; 

A blither heart, till Ellen came. 

Did never love nor sorrow tame ; 

It danced as lightsome in his breast 

As play'd the feather on his crest. 

Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth, 

His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth. 

And bards, who saw his features bold 

When kindled by the tales of old, 

Said, were that youth to manhood grown, 

Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown 

Be foremost voiced by mountain fame. 

But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme. 



80 THE ISLAND. 



XXVI. 



Now back they wend their watery way, 
And, " O my sire ! " did Ellen say, 
" Why urge thy chase so far astray? 
And why so late returned? And why" — 
The rest was in her speaking eye. 
" My child, the chase I follow far, 
'T is mimicry of noble war ; 
And with that gallant pastime reft 
Were all of Douglas I have left. 
I met young Malcolm as I stray'd 
Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade ; 
Nor stray 'd I safe, for all around 
Hunters and horsemen scour'd the ground. 
This youth, though still a royal ward, 
Risk'd life and land to be my guard, 
And through the passes of the wood 
Guided my steps, not unpursued ; 
And Roderick shall his welcome make, 
Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. 
Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen, 
Nor peril aught for me agen." 



XXVII. 

Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, 
Redden'd at sijiht of Malcolm Graeme 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 8 1 

Yet, not in action, word, or eye, 

FaiPd aught in hospitality. 

In talk and sport they whiled away 

The morning of that summer day ; 

But at high noon a courier light 

Held secret parley with the knight, 

Whose moody aspect soon declared 

That evil were the news he heard. 

Deep thought seem'd toiling in his head ; 

Yet was the evening banquet made, 

Ere he assembled round the flame 

His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme, 

And Ellen too ; then cast around 

His eyes, then fixed them on the ground. 

As studying phrase that might avail 

Best to convey unpleasant tale. 

Long with his dagger's hilt he play'd. 

Then raised his haughty brow, and said : — 



" Short be my speech ; — nor time affords. 
Nor my plain temper, glozing words. 
Kinsman and father, — if such name 
Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick"'s claim ; 
Mine honored mother; Ellen, — why, 
My cousin, turn away thine eye? — - 



2 THE ISLAND. 

And Grasme, in whom I hope to know 

Full soon a noble friend or foe, 

When age shall give thee thy command 

And leading in thy native land, — 

List all! — The King's vindictive pride 

Boasts to have tamed the Border-side, 

Where chiefs with hound and hawk who came 

To share their monarch's sylvan game, 

Themselves in bloody toils were snared ; 

And when the banquet they prepared, 

And wide their loyal portals flung, 

O'er their own gateway struggling hung. 

Loud cries their blood from Meggat's meed, 

From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed, 

Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide, 

And from the silver Teviot's side ; 

The dales, where martial clans did ride. 

Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. 

This tyrant of the Scottish throne. 

So faithless and so ruthless known, 

Now hither comes ; his end the same, 

The same pretext of sylvan game. 

What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye 

By fate of Border chivalry. 

Yet more : amid Glenfinlas' green, 

Douglas, thy stately form was seen. 

This by espial sure I know : 

Your counsel in the streight I show." 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 83 
XXIX. 

Ellen and iMargaret fearfully 

Sought comfort in each other's eye, 

Then turn'd their ghastly look, each one, 

This to her sire, that to her son. 

The hasty color went and came 

In the bold cheek of Malcolm Graeme ; 

But from his glance it well appeard 

'T was but for Ellen that he fear'd ; 

While, sorrowful but undismay'd. 

The Douglas thus his counsel said : — 

"Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar, 

It may but thunder and pass o'er ; 

Nor will I here remain an hour. 

To draw the lightning on thy bower ; 

For well thou know'st, at this ^ray head 

The royal bolt were fiercest sped. 

For thee, who, at thy King's command. 

Canst aid him with a gallant band, 

Submission, homage, humbled pride. 

Shall turn the monarch's wrath aside. 

Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, 

Ellen and I will seek, apart. 

The refuge of some forest cell, 

There like the hunted quarry dwell, 

Till on the mountain and the moor 

The stern pursuit be pass'd and o'er." — 



84 THE ISLAND. 



*' No, by mine honor/' Roderick said, 

" So help me Heaven, and my good blade ! 

No, never ! Blasted be yon Pine, 

My father's ancient crest and mine, 

If from its shade in danger part 

The lineage of the Bleeding Heart ! 

Hear my blunt speech : grant me this maid 

To wife, thy counsel to mine aid; 

To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu, 

Will friends and allies flock enow ; 

Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, 

Will bind to us each Western Chief. 

When the loud pipes my bridal tell. 

The Links of Forth shall hear the knell. 

The guards shall start in Stirling's porch ; 

And when I light the nuptial torch, 

A thousand villages in flames 

Shall scare the slumbers of King James ! — 

Nay,. Ellen, blench not thus away. 

And, mother, cease these signs, I pray; 

I meant not all my heat might say. — 

Small need of inroad, or of fight. 

When the sage Douglas may unite 

Each mountain clan in friendly band. 

To guard the passes of their land. 

Till the foiPd King, frpm pathless glen. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE, 85 

XXXI. 

There are who have, at midnight hour, 

In slumbers scaled a dizzy tower, 

And, on the verge that beetled o'er 

The ocean tide's incessant roar, 

Dreani'd calmly out their dangerous dream, 

Till waken'd by the morning beam ; 

When, dazzled by the eastern glow, 

Such startler cast his glance below. 

And saw unmeasured depth around. 

And heard unintermitted sound, 

And thought the battle fence so frail 

It waved like cobweb in the gale ; — 

Amid his senses' giddy wheel. 

Did he not desperate impulse feel 

Headlong to plunge himself below. 

And meet the worst his fears foreshow ? — 

Thus Ellen, dizzy and astound, 

As sudden ruin yawn'd around, 

By crossing terrors wildly toss'd, 

Still for the Douglas fearing most. 

Could scarce the desperate thought withstand 

To buy his safety with her hand. 

XXXII. 

Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy 
In Ellen's quivering lip and eye. 



86 THE ISLAND. 

And eager rose to speak, — but ere 
His tongue could hurry forth his fear, 
Had Douglas mark'd the hectic strife, 
Where death seem'd combating with life ; 
For to her cheek, in feverish flood, 
One instant rush'd the throbbing blood, 
Then ebbing back, with sudden sway, 
Left its domain as wan as clay. 
"Roderick, enough ! enough ! " he cried, 
" My daughter cannot be thy bride ; 
Not that the blush to wooer dear. 
Nor paleness that of maiden fear. 
It may not be, — forgive her. Chief, 
Nor hazard aught for our relief. 
Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er 
Will level a rebellious spear. 
'T was I that taught his youthful hand 
To rein a steed and wield a brand ; 
I see him yet, the princely boy ! 
Not Ellen more my pride and joy ; 
I love him still, despite my wrongs 
By hasty wrath and slanderous tongues. 
O, seek the grace you well may find, 
Without a cause to mine combined ! " 

XXXIII. 

Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode ; 
The waving of his tartans broad, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 8/ 

And darken'd brow, where wounded pride 
With ire and disappointment vied, 
Seem'd, by the torch's gloomy light, 
Like the ill Demon of the night 
Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway 
Upon the nighted pilgrim's way : 
But, unrequited Love ! thy dart, 
Plunged deepest its envenom'd smart. 
And Roderick, with thine anguish stung, 
At length the hand of Douglas wrung. 
While eyes that mock'd at tears before 
With bitter drops were running o'er. 
The death-pangs of long-cherish'd hope 
Scarce in that ample breast had scope. 
But, struggling with his spirit proud, 
Convulsive heaved its chequered shroud, 
While every sob — so mute were all — 
Was heard distinctly through the hall 
The son's despair, the mother's look, 
111 might the gentle Ellen brook ; 
She rose, and to her side there came, 
To aid her parting steps, the Gr^me. 

XXXIV. 

Then Roderick from the Douglas broke : 
As flashes flame through sable smoke, 
Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low. 
To one broad blaze of ruddy glow. 



S THE ISLAND. 

So the deep anguish of despair 

Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. 

With stalwart grasp his hand he laid 

On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid : 

"Back, beardless boy ! " he sternly said, 

" Back, minion ! hokVst thou thus at naught 

The lesson I so lately taught ? 

This roof, the Douglas, and that maid, 

Thank thou for punishment delayed. " 

Eager as greyhound on his game, 

Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme. 

'* Perish my name, if aught afford 

Its Chieftain safety save his sword ! " 

Thus as they strove, their desperate hand 

Gripped to the dagger or the brand ; 

And death had been, — but Douglas rose. 

And thrust between the struggling foes 

His giant strength : — "Chieftains, forego ! 

I hold the first who strikes, my foe. — 

Madmen, forbear your frantic jar ! 

What ! is the Douglas falPn so far, 

His daughter's hand is deem'd the spoil 

Of such dishonorable broil ? " 

Sullen and slowly they unclasp. 

As struck with shame, their desperate grasp, 

And each upon his rival glared, 

With foot advanced and blade half bared. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 89 



Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, 

Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung, 

And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream, 

As falter'd through terrific dream. 

Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, 

And veird his wrath in scornful word : 

' ' Rest safe till morning ; pity 't were 

Such cheek should feel the midnight air. 

Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell, 

Roderick will keep the lake and fell, 

Nor lackey with his freeborn clan 

The pageant pomp of earthly man. 

More would he of Clan-Alpine know, 

Thou canst our strength and passes show. — 

Malise, w^hat ho! " — his henchman came: 

" Give our safe-conduct to the Graeme.'' 

Young Malcolm answer'd, calm and bold, 

" Fear nothing for thy favorite hold ; 

The spot an angel deign'd to grace 

Is bless'd though robbers haunt the place. 

Thy churlish courtesy for those 

Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. 

As safe to me the mountain way 

At midnight as in blaze of day. 

Though with his boldest at his back 

Even Roderick Dhu beset the track. — 



90 THE ISLAND. 

Brave Douglas, —lovely Ellen, — nay, 
Naught here of parting will I say. 
Earth does not hold a lonesome glen 
So secret but we meet agen. — 
Chieftain ! we too shall find an hour," 
He said, and left the sylvan bower. 

XXXVI. 

Old Allan followed to the strand, 

(Such was the Douglas's command,) 

And anxious told, how, on the morn. 

The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn 

The Fiery Cross should circle o'er 

Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor. 

Much were the peril to the Graeme 

From those who to the signal came ; 

Far up the lake 't w^ere safest land, 

Himself would row him to the strand. 

He gave his counsel to the wind. 

While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind. 

Round dirk and pouch and broadsword roll'd, 

His ample plaid in tightened fold. 

And stripped his limbs to such array 

As best might suit the watery way, — 

XXXVII. 

Then spoke abrupt : '* Farewell to thee, 
Pattern of old fidelity ! " 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 9 1 

The Minstrel's hand he kindly press'd, — 
" O ! could I point a place of rest ! 
My sovereign holds in ward my land, 
My uncle leads my vassal band ; 
To tame his foes, his friends to aid, 
Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. 
Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme 
Who loves the Chieftain of his name, 
Not long shall honored Douglas dwell 
Like hunted stag in mountain cell j 
Nor, ere yon pride-swoirn robber dare, — 
I may not give the rest to air ! 
Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him naught, 
Not the poor service of a boat, 
To waft me to yon mountain-side." 
Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 
Bold o'er the flood his head he bore, 
And stoutly steer'd him from the shore ; 
And Allan strain'd his anxious eye. 
Far 'mid the lake his form to spy. 
Darkening across each puny wave, 
To which the moon her silver gave. 
Fast as the cormorant could skim. 
The swimmer plied each active limb ; 
Then, landing in the moonlight dell, 
Loud shouted of his weal to tell. 
The Minstrel heard the far halloo. 
And joyful from the shore withdrew. 



CANTO THE THIRD. 



CANTO THE THIRD. 



THE GATHERING. 



Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of 
yore 

Who danced our infancy upon their knee, 
And told our marvelling boyhood legends store 

Of their strange ventures hapjj'd by land or sea, 

How are they blotted from the things that be ! 
How few, all weak and withered of their force, 

Wait on the verge of dark eternity. 
Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, 
To sweep them from our sight ! Time rolls his 
ceaseless course. 



Yet live there still who can remember well. 

How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew, 
Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell. 

And solitary heath, the signal knew ; 

And fast the faithful clan around him drew. 
What time the warning note was keenly wound, 

What time aloft their kindred banner flew, 
95 



96 THE GATHERING. 

While clamorous war-pipes yell'd the gathering 

sound, 
And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a 

meteor, round. 



The Summer dawn's reflected hue 

To purple changed Loch Katrine blue ; 

Mildly and soft the w^estern breeze 

Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees. 

And the pleased lake, like maiden coy. 

Trembled but dimpled not for joy : 

The mountain shadows on her breast 

Were neither broken nor at rest ; 

In bright uncertaint)* they lie, 

Like future joys to Fancy's eye. 

The water-lily to the light 

Her chalice rear'd of silver bright 

The doe awoke, and to the lawn, 

Begemm'd with dew-drops, led her fawn ; 

The gray mist left the mountain-side, 

The torrent showed its glistening pride ; 

Invisible in flecked sky 

The lark sent down her revelry ; 

The blackbird and the speckled thrush 

Good-morrow gave from brake and bush ; 

In answer coo'd the cushat dove 

Her notes of peace and rest and love. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Q/ 



III. 



No thought of peace, no thought of rest, 
Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. 
With sheathed broadsword in his hand, 
Abrupt he paced the islet strand. 
And eyed the rising sun, and laid 
His hand on his impatient blade. 
Beneath a rock, his vassals' care 
Was prompt the ritual to prepare. 
With deep and deathful meaning fraught : 
For such Antiquity had taught 
Was preface meet, ere yet abroad 
The Cross of Fire should take its road. 
The shrinking band stood oft aghast 
At the impatient glance he cast ; — 
Such glance the mountain eagle threw, 
As, from the cliffs of Benvenue, 
She spread her dark sails on the wind. 
And, high in middle heaven reclined. 
With her broad shadow on the lake. 
Silenced the warblers of the brake. 



IV. 



A heap of witherM boughs was piled. 
Of juniper and rowan wild, 



98 THE GATHERING. 

Mingled with shivers from tlie oak 

Rent by the lightning's recent stroke. 

Brian the Hermit by it stood, 

Barefooted in his frock and hood. 

His grisled beard and matted hair 

Obscm-ed a visage of despair ; 

His naked arms and legs, seam'd o'er. 

The scars of frantic penance bore. 

That monk of savage form and face 

The impending danger of his race 

Had drawn from deepest solitude, 

Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. 

Not his the mien of Christian priest, 

But Druid's, from the grave released. 

Whose hardened heart and eye might brook 

On human sacrifice to look ; 

And much, 't was said, of heathen lore 

Mix'd in the charms he mutter'd o'er. 

The hallow'd creed gave only worse 

And deadlier emphasis of curse. 

No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer, 

His cave the pilgrim shunn'd with care ; 

The eager huntsman knew his bound. 

And in mid chase call'd off his hound ; 

Or if, in lonely glen or strath, 

The desert-dweller met his path. 

He prayxl, and sign'd the cross between, 

While terror took devotion's mien. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 99 



Of Brian's birth strange tales were told : 
His mother watch'd a midnight fold 
Built deep within a dreary glen, 
Where scatter'd lay the bones of men 
In some forgotten battle slain, 
And bleach'd by drifting wind and rain. 
It might have tamed a warrior's heart 
To view such mockery of his art ! 
The knot-grass fetter'd there the hand 
Which once could burst an iron band ; 
Beneath the broad and ample bone 
That bucklerd heart to fear unknown, 
A feeble and a timorous guest, 
The fieldfare framed her lowly nest ; 
There the slow blindworm left his slime 
On the fleet limbs that mock'd at time ; 
And there, too, lay the leader's skull. 
Still wreathed with chaplet, flush'd and full. 
For heath-bell with her purple bloom 
Supplied the bonnet and the plume. 
All night, in this sad glen, the maid 
Sat shrouded in her mantle's shade : 
She said no shepherd sought her side. 
No hunter's hand her snood untied, 
Vet ne'er again to braid her hair 
The virgin snood did Alice wear ; 



lOO THE GATHERING. 

Gone was her maiden glee and sport, 
Her maiden girdle all too short, 
Nor sought she, from that fatal night, 
Or holy church or blessed rite, 
But lock'd her secret in her breast, 
And died in travail, unconfessM. 



Alone, among his young compeers. 
Was Brian from his infant years ; 
A moody and heart-broken boy. 
Estranged from sympathy and joy. 
Bearing each taunt wliich careless tongue 
On his mysterious lineage flung. 
Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale. 
To wood and stream his hap to wail, 
Till, frantic, he as truth received 
What of his birth the crowd believed. 
And sought, in mist and meteor fire. 
To meet and know his Phantom Sire ! 
In vain, to sooth his wayward fate. 
The cloister oped her pitying gate • 
In vain the learning of the age 
Unclasp'd the sable-letter'd page ; 
Even in its treasures he could find 
Food for the fever of his mind. 
Eager he read whatever tells 
Of magic, cabala, and spells. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. lOI 

And every dark pursuit allied 

To curious and presumptuous pride ; 

Till, with fired brain and nerves o'erstmng, 

And heart with mystic horrors wrung, 

Desperate he sought Benharrow's den, 

And hid him from the haunts of men. 



VII. 

The desert gave him visions wild, 

Such as might suit the spectre's child. 

Where with black cliffs the torrents toil, 

He watch'd the wheeling eddies boil, 

Till from their foam his dazzled eyes 

Beheld the River Demon rise : 

The mountain mist took form and limb 

Of noontide hag or goblin grim ; 

The midnight wind came wild and dread, 

Swell'd with the voices of the dead ; 

Far on the future battle-heath 

His eye beheld the ranks of death : 

Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurl'd, 

Shaped forth a disembodied world. 

One lingering sympathy of mind 

Still bound him to the mortal kind : 

The only parent he could claim 

Of ancient Alpine's lineage came. 

Late had he heard, in prophet's dream, 

The fatal Ben-Shie's bodino; scream ; 



02 THE GATHERING. 

Sounds, too, had come in midnight olast 

Of charging steeds, careering fast 

Along Benharrow's shingly side, 

Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride ; 

The thunderbolt had split the pine, — 

All augur'd ill to Alpine's line 

He girt his loins, and came to show 

The signals of impending woe. 

And now stood prompt to bless or ban. 

As bade the Chieftain of his clan. 

VIII. 

'T was all prepared ; — and from the rock 
A goat, the patriarch of the flock. 
Before the kindling pile was laid, 
And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. 
Patient the sickening victim eyed • 
The life-blood ebb in crimson tide 
Down his clogg'd beard and shaggy limb. 
Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. 
The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, 
A slender crosslet form'd with care, 
A cubit's length in measure due ; 
The shaft and limbs were rods of yew. 
Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave 
Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave. 
And answering Lomond's breezes deep. 
Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. IO3 

The Cross, thus form'd, he held on high, 
With wasted hand and haggard eye, 
And strange and mingled feelings woke, 
While his anathema he spoke : — 



" Woe to the clansman who shall view 
This symbol of sepulchral yew, 
Forgetful that its branches grew 
Where weep the heavens their holiest dew 

On Alpine's dwelling low ! 
Deserter of his Chieftain's trust, 
He ne'er shall mingle with their dust. 
But, from his sires and kindred thrust, 
Each clansman's execration just 

Shall doom him wTath and woe." 
He paused ; — the word the vassals took. 
With forward step and fiery look, 
On high their naked brands they shook. 
Their clattering targets wildly strook ; 

And first in murmur low. 
Then, like the billow in his course, 
That far to seaward finds his source, 
And flings to shore his muster'd force, 
Burst with loud roar their answer hoarse, 

" Woe to the traitor, woe ! " 
Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew. 
The joyous wolf from covert drew, 
The exulting eagle scream'd afar, — 
They knew the voice of. Alpine's war. 



104 T^^^ GATHERING. 



X. 



The shout was hush'd on lake and fell, 
The Monk resumed his muttered spell. 
Dismal and low its accents came, 
The while he scathed the Cross with flame ; 
And the few words that reached the air, 
Although the holiest name was there, 
Had more of blasphemy than prayer. 
But when he shook above the crowd 
Its kindled points, he spoke aloud : 
" Woe to the wretch who fails to rear 
At this dread sign the ready spear ! 
For, as the flames this symbol sear, 
His home, the refuge of his fear, 

A kindred fate shall know ; 
Far o'er its roof the volumed flame 
Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim. 
While maids and matrons on his name 
Shall call down wretchedness and shame, 

And infamy and woe." 
Then rose the cry of females, shrill 
As goss-hawk's whistle on the hill. 
Denouncing misery and ill. 
Mingled with childhood's babbling trill 

Of curses stammer'd slow ; 
Answering with imprecation dread, — 
" Sunk be his home in embers red! 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. IO5 

And cursed be the meanest shed 
That e'er shall hide the houseless head 

We doom to want and woe ! '' 
A sharp and shrieking echo gave, 
Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave, 
And the gray pass where birches wave 

On Beala-nam-bo. 



Then deeper paused the Priest anew. 
And hard his laboring breath he drew. 
While, with set teeth and clenched hand. 
And eyes that glow'd like fiery brand, 
He meditated curse more dread. 
And deadlier, on the clansman's head 
Who, summoned to his Chieftain's aid, 
The signal saw and disobey'd. 
The crosslefs points of sparkling wood 
He quench'd among the bubbling blood. 
And, as again the sign he rear'd, 
Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard : 
" When flits this cross from man to man, 
Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan. 
Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! 
Palsied the foot that shuns to speed ! 
May ravens tear the careless eyes, 
Wolves make the coward heart their prize ! 



r n 



1 06 THE GATHERING. 

As sinks that blood-stream in the earth, 
So may his heart's-blood drench his hearth ! 
As dies in hissing gore the spark, 
Quench thou his hght, Destruction dark ! 
And be the grace to him denied. 
Bought by this sign to all beside 
He ceased ; no echo gave agen 
The murmur of the deep Amen. 



Then Roderick, \vith impatient look, 

From Brian's hand the symbol took : 

" Speed, Malise, speed !'" he said, and gave 

The crosslet to his henchman brave. 

" The muster-place be Lanrick mead — 

Instant the time ^- speed, Malise, speed ! " 

Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue, 

A barge across Loch Katrine flew ; 

High stood the henchman on the prow ; 

So rapidly the barge-men row. 

The bubbles, where they launched the boat, 

Were all unbroken and afloat, 

Dancing in foam and ripple still. 

When it had near'd the mainland hill ; 

And from the silver beach's side 

Still was the prow three fathom wide. 

When lightly bounded to the land 

The messencrer of blood and brand. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. lOj 



XMI. 

Speed, Malise, speed ! the dun deers hide 

On fleeter foot was never tied. 

Speed, Malise, speed ! such cause of haste 

Thine active sineus never braced. 

Bend 'gainst the steep hill thy breast. 

Burst down like torrent from its crest ; 

With short and springing footstep pass 

The trembling bog and false morass ; 

Across the brook like roebuck bound. 

And thread the brake like questing hound ; 

The crag is high, the scaur is deep, 

Yet shrink not from the desperate leap ; 

Parch'd are thy burning lips and brow, 

Yet by the fountain pause not now ; 

Herald of battle, fate, and fear, 

Stretch onward in thy fleet career! 

The wounded hind thou track'st not now, 

Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough, 

Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace 

With rivals in the mountain race ; 

But danger, death, and warrior deed 

Are in thy course, — speed, Malise, speed ! 



Fast as the fatal symbol flies. 

In arms the huts and hamlets rise ; 



I08 THE GATHERING. 

From winding glen, from upland brown, 
They pour'd each hardy tenant down. 
Nor slacked the messenger his pace ; 
He show'd the sign, he named the place, 
And pressing forward like the wind, 
Left clamor and surprise behind. 
The fisherman forsook the strand, 
The swarthy smith took dirk and brand ; 
With changed cheer, the mower blithe 
Left in the half-cut swathe his scythe ; 
The herds without a keeper stray'd, 
The plough was in mid-furrow staid, 
The falconer tossed his hawk away, 
The hunter left the stag at bay ; 
Prompt at the signal of alarms. 
Each son of Alpine rush'd to arms : 
So swept the tumult and affray 
Along the margin of Achray. 
Alas, thou lovely lake ! that e'er 
Thy banks should echo sounds of fear ! 
The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep 
So stilly on thy bosom deep. 
The lark's blithe carol from the cloud 
Seems for the scene too gaily loud. 

XV. 

Speed, Malise, speed ! the lake is past ; 
Duncraggan's huts appear at last, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. IO9 

And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, 

Half hidden in the copse so green ; 

There mayst thou rest, thy labor done, 

Their lord shall speed the signal on. — 

As stoops the hawk upon his prey, 

The henchman shot him down the way. — 

What woeful accents load the gale? 

The funeral yell, the female wail ! 

A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, 

A valiant warrior fights no more. 

Who, in the battle or the chase, 

At Roderick's side shall fill his place? — 

Within the hall, where torch's ray 

Supplies the excluded beams of day, 

Lies Duncan on his lowly bier. 

And o'er him streams his widow's tear. 

His stripling son stands mournful by. 

His youngest weeps, but knows not why; 

The village maids and matrons round 

The dismal coronach resound. 



XVI. 

CORONACH. 

He is gone on the mountain, 
He is lost to the forest, 

Like a summer-dried fountain, 
When our need was the sorest. 



no THE GATHERING. 

The font, reappearing, 

From the rain-drops shall borrow. 
But to us comes no cheering, 

To Duncan no morrow ! 

The hand of the reaper 

Takes the ears that are hoary, 
But the voice of the weeper 

Wails manhood in glory. 
The autumn winds rushing 

Waft the leaves that are searest. 
But our iiower was in flushing, 

When blighting was nearest. 

Fleet foot on the correi, 

Sage counsel in cumber, 
Red hand in the foray. 

How sound is thy slumber ! 
Like the dew on the mountain. 

Like the foam on the river. 
Like the bubble on the fountain. 

Thou art gone, and for ever ! 



See Stumah, who, the bier beside, 
His master's corpse with wonder eyed. 
Poor Stumah ! whom his least halloo 
Could send like lightning o'er the dew. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. HI 

Bristles his crest and points his ears, 
As if some stranger step he hears. 
^T is not a mourner's muffled tread, 
Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead, 
But headlong haste or deadly fear 
Urge the precipitate career. 
All stand aghast : — unheeding all, 
The henchman bursts into the hall : 
Before the dead man's bier he stood. 
Held forth the Cross besmear'd with blood : 
" The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; 
Speed forth the signal ! clansmen, speed ! " 

XVIII. 

Angus, the heir of Duncan's line. 
Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. 
In haste the stripling to his side 
His father's dirk and broadsword tied ; 
But when he saw his mother's eye 
Watch him in speechless agony. 
Back to her open'd arms he flew, 
Press'd on her lips a fond adieu, — 
"Alas ! " she sobb'd, — " and yet be gone, 
And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son ! " 
One look he cast upon the bier, 
Dash'd from his eye the gathering tear. 
Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast. 
And toss'd aloft his bonnet crest. 



112 THE GATHERING. 

Then, like the high-bred colt when, freed, 

First he essays his fire and speed, 

He vanished, and o'er moor and moss 

Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. 

Suspended was the widow's tear 

While yet his footsteps she could hear ; 

And when she mark'd the henchman's eye 

Wet with unwonted sympathy, 

" Kinsman," she said, " his race is run 

That should have sped thine errand on ; 

The oak has fall'n, — the sapling bough 

Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. 

Yet trust I well, his duty done, 

The orphan's God will guard my son. — 

And you, in many a danger true, 

At Duncan's hest your blades that drew. 

To arms, and guard that orphan's head ! 

Let babes and women wail the dead." — 

Then weapon-clang and martial call 

Resounded through the funeral hall, 

While from the walls the attendant band 

Snatch'd sword and targe with hurried hand ; 

And short and flitting energy 

Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye, 

As if the sounds to warrior dear 

Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. 

But faded soon that borrow'd force ; 

Grief clainvd his right, and tears their course. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. II3 
XIX. 

Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, 

It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. 

O'er dale and hill the summons flew, 

Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew ; 

The tear that gatherd in his eye 

He left the mountain-breeze to dry; 

Until, where Teith's young waters roll 

Betwixt him and a wooded knoll 

That graced the sable strath with green, 

The chapel of Saint Bride was seen. 

Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge, 

But Angus paused not on the edge ; 

Though the dark waves danced dizzily. 

Though reePd his sympathetic eye, 

He dash'd amid the torrent's roar : 

His right hand high the crosslet bore. 

His left the pole-axe grasp'd, to guide 

And stay his footing in the tide. 

He stumbled twice, — the foam splash'd high. 

With hoarser swell the stream raced by ; 

And had he falPn, — forever there, 

Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir ! 

But still, as if in parting life 

Firmer he grasp'd the Cross of strife, 

Until the opposing bank he gained. 

And up the chapel pathway strained. 



114 THE GATHERIXG. 



A blithesome rout, that morning-tide, 
Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. 
Her troth Tombea's Mary gave 
To Xorman, heir of Armandave, 
And, issuing from the Gothic arch. 
The bridal now resumed their march. 
In rude but glad procession came 
Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame ; 
And plaided youth, with jest and jeer. 
Which snooded maiden would not hear ; 
And children, that, unwitting why, 
Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry ; 
And minstrels, that in measures vied 
Before the young and bonny bride. 
Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose 
The tear and blush of morning rose. 
With virgin step and bashful hand 
She held the kerchiefs snowy band. 
The gallant bridegroom by her side 
Beheld his prize with victor's pride, 
And the glad mother in her ear 
Was closely whispering word of cheer. 



Who meets them at the churchyard gate? 
The messenger of fear and fate ! 
Haste in his hurried accent lies. 
And grief is swimming in his eyes. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. II5 

All dripping from the recent flood, 

Panting and travel-soird he stood, 

The fatal sign of fire and sword 

Held forth, and spoke the appointed word : 

" The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; 

Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed ! " — 

And must he change so soon the hand 

Just link'd to his by holy band. 

For the fell Cross of blood and brand? 

And must the day so blithe that rose, 

And promised rapture in the close. 

Before its setting hour divide 

The bridegroom from the plighted bride? 

O fatal doom ! — it must ! it must ! 

Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust. 

Her summons dread, brook no delay ; 

Stretch to the race, — away ! away ! 



XXII. 

Yet slow he laid his plaid aside. 
And lingering eyed his lovely bride, 
Until he saw the starting tear 
Speak woe he might not stop to cheer ; 
Then, trusting not a second look, 
In haste he sped him up the brook, 
Xor backward glanced till on the heath 
Where Lubnaigs lake supplies the Teith, 



Il6 THE GATHERING. 

What in the racer's bosom stirrd? 

The sickening pang of hope deferred, 

And memory with a torturing train 

Of all his morning visions vain. 

Mingled w^ith love's impatience, came 

The manly thirst for martial fame ; 

The stormy joy of mountaineers 

Ere yet they rush upon the spears ; 

And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning, 

And hope, from well-fought field returning, 

With war's red honors on his crest, 

To clasp his Mary to his breast. 

Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae, 

Like fire from flint he glanced away, 

While high resolve and feeling strong 

Burst into voluntary song. 

XXIII. 
SONG. 

The heath this night must be my bed. 
The bracken curtain for my head, 
My lullaby the warder's tread. 

Far, far, from love and thee, Mary ; 
To-morrow eve, more stilly laid. 
My couch may be my bloody plaid. 
My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid! 

It will not waken me, Mary ! 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. \\J 

I may not, dare not, fancy now 

The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, 

I dare not think upon thy vow, 

And all it promised me, Mary. 
No fond regret must Norman know ; 
When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, 
His heart must be like bended bow, 

His foot like arrow free, Mary ! 

A time will come with feeling fraught, 
For, if I fall in battle fought. 
Thy hapless lover's dying thought 

Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. 
And if returned from conquered foes. 
How blithely will the evening close, 
How sweet the linnet sing repose. 

To my young bride and me, Mary ! 



XXIV. 

Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, 
Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze. 
Rushing in conflagration strong 
Thy deep ravines and dells along. 
Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, 
And reddening the dark lakes below ; 
Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, 
As o'er thy heaths the voice of war. 



I I 8 THE GA THE RING. 

The signal roused to martial coil 

The sullen margin of Loch Voil, 

Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source 

Alarm'd, Balvaig_, thy swampy course; 

Then southward turn'd its rapid road 

Adown Strath-Gartney"'s valley broad, 

Till rose in arms each man might claim 

A portion in Clan-Alpine's name ; 

From the gray sire, whose trembling hand 

Could hardly buckle on his brand. 

To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow 

Were yet scarce terror to the crow. 

Each valley, each sequestered glen, 

Muster'd its little horde of men. 

That met as torrents from the height 

In Highland dales their streams unite. 

Still gathering, as they pour along, 

A voice more loud, a tide more strong. 

Till at the rendezvous they stood 

By hundreds prompt for blows and blood, 

Each trained to arms since life began. 

Owning no tie but to his Clan, 

No oath but by his Chieftain's hand. 

No law but Roderick Dhu's command. 

XXV. 

That summer morn had Roderick Dhu 
Survev'd the skirts of Benvenue, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And sent his scouts o''er hill and heath, 
To view the frontiers of Menteith. 
All backward came with news of truce ; 
Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce, 
In Rednock courts no horsemen wait. 
No banner waved on Cardross gate, . 
On Duchray's towers no beacon shone. 
Nor scared the herons from Loch Con ; 
All seem'd at peace. — Now wot ye why 
The Chieftain, with such anxious eye, 
Ere to the muster he repair, 
This western frontier scann'd with care? 
In Benvenue's most darksome cleft, 
A fair though cruel pledge was left ; 
For Douglas, to his promise true, 
That morning from the isle withdrew. 
And in a deep sequester'd dell 
Had sought a low and lonely cell. 
By many a bard in Celtic tongue 
Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung; 
A softer name the Saxons gave, 
And call'd the grot the Goblin-cave. 

XXVI. 

It was a wild and strange retreat, 
As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. 
The dell, upon the mountain's crest, 
Yawn'd like a gash on warrior's breast ; 



I20 THE GATHERING. 

Its trench had stayed full many a rock, 
Hurl'd by primeval earthquake shock 
From Benvenue's gray summit wild, 
And here, in random ruin piled, 
They frown'd incumbent o'er the spot. 
And form'd the rugged sylvan grot. 
The oak and birch with mingled shade 
At noontide there a twilight made. 
Unless when short and sudden shone 
Some straggling beam on cliff or stone. 
With such a glimpse as prophet's eye 
Gains on thy depth, Futurity. 
No murmur waked the solemn still, 
Save tinkling of a fountain rill ; 
But when the wind chafed with the lake, 
A sullen sound would upward break, 
With dashing hollow voice, that spoke 
The incessant war of wave and rock. 
Suspended cliffs with hideous sway 
Seem'd nodding o'er the cavern gray. 
From such a den the wolf had sprung. 
In such the wild-cat leaves her young ; 
Yet Douglas and his daughter fair 
Sought for a space their safety there. 
Gray Superstition's whisper dread 
Debarred the spot to vulgar tread ; 
For there, she said, did fays resort. 
And satyrs hold their sylvan court. 
By moonlight tread their mystic maze. 
And blast the rash beholder's gaze. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 121 
XXVII. 

Now eve, with western shadows long, 

Floated on Katrine bright and strong. 

When Roderick with a chosen few 

Repass'd the heights of Benvenue. 

Above the Goblin-cave they go. 

Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo ; 

The prompt retainers speed before, ■ 

To launch the shallop from the shore, 

For 'cross Loch Katrine lies his way 

To view the passes of Achray, 

And place his clansmen in array. 

Yet lags the Chief in musing mind, 

Unwonted sight, his men behind. 

A single page, to bear his sword, 

Alone attended on his lord ; 

The rest their way through thickets break. 

And soon await him by the lake. 

It was a fair and gallant sight. 

To view them from the neighboring height. 

By the lOw-levell'd sunbeam's light ! 

For strength and stature, from the clan 

Each warrior was a chosen man, 

As even afar might well be seen. 

By their proud step and martial mien. 

Their feathers dance, their tartans float. 

Their targets gleam, as by the boat 

A wild and warlike group they stand, 

That well became such mountain strand. 



122 THE GATHERING. 

XXVIII. 

Their Chief, with step reluctant, still 

Was lingering on the craggy hill, 

Hard by where turn'd apart the road 

To Douglas's obscure abode. 

It was but with that dawning morn 

That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn 

To drown his love in war's wild roar, 

Nor think of Ellen Douglas more ; 

But he who stems a stream with sand, 

And fetters flame with flaxen band. 

Has yet a harder task to prove, — 

By firm resolve to conquer love ! 

Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, 

Still hovering near his treasure lost ; 

For though his haughty heart deny 

A parting meeting to his eye. 

Still fondly strains his anxious ear 

The accents of her voice to hear. 

And inly did he curse the breeze 

That waked to sound the rustling trees. 

But hark ! what mingles in the strain? 

It is the harp of Allan-Bane, 

That wakes its measure slow and high, 

Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 

What melting voice attends the strings? 

'T is Ellen, or an angel, sings. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 23 
XXIX. 
HYiMN TO THE VIRGIN. 

Ave Maria.' maiden mild ! 

Listen to a maiden's prayer! 
Thou canst hear though from the wild, 

Thou canst save amid despair. 

Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, 
Though banish'd, outcast, and reviled ; 

Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer, 
Mother, hear a suppliant child ! 

Ave Maria ! 

Ave Maria ! undefiled ! 

The flinty couch we now must share 
Shall seem with down of eider piled, 

If thy protection hover there. 

The murky cavern's heavy air 
Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled ; 

Then, Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer, 

Mother, list a suppliant child ! 

Ave Maria I 

Ave Maria! stainless styled ! 

Foul demons of the earth and air. 
From this their wonted haunt exiled, 

Shall flee before thy presence fair. 



124 THE GATHERING. 

We bow us to our lot of care. 
Beneath thy guidance reconciled ; 

Hear for a maid a maiden's pra3^er. 
And for a father hear a child ! 

Ave Maria / 

XXX. 

Died on the harp the closing hymn, — 
Unmoved in attitude and limb. 
As list'ning still, Clan- Alpine's lord 
Stood leaning on his heavy sword. 
Until the page, with humble sign, 
Twice pointed to the sun's decline. 
Then while his plaid he round him cast, 
" It is the last time — 't is the last," 
He mutter'd thrice, — " the last time e'er 
That angel-voice shall Roderick hear I " 
It was a goading thought, — his stride 
Hied hastier down the mountain-side ; 
Sullen he flung him in the boat. 
And instant 'cross the lake it shot. 
They landed in that silvery bay, 
And eastward held their hasty way. 
Till, with the latest beams of light. 
The band arrived on Lanrick height, 
Where muster'd in the vale below 
Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



A various scene the clansmen made : 

Some sate, some stood, some slowl}- stray'd ; 

But most, with mantles folded round, 

Were couch'd to rest upon the ground. 

Scarce to be known by curious eye 

From the deep heather where they lie. 

So well was matched the tartan screen 

With heath-bell dark and brackens green ; 

Unless where, here and there, a blade 

Or lance's point a glimmer made. 

Like glowworm twinkling through the shade. 

But when, advancing through the gloom, 

They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume. 

Their shout of welcome, shrill and wdde, 

Shook the steep mountain's steady side. 

Thrice it arose, and lake and fell 

Three times returned the martial yell ; 

It died upon Bochastle's plain, 

And Silence claim'd her evening reign. 



CANTO THE FOURTH. 



CANTO THE FOURTH. 



THE PROPHECY. 



*' The rose is fairest when 't is budding new, 
And hope is brightest Avhen it dawns from 
fears ; 
The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, 
And love is lovehest when embalm'd in tears. 
O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, 
I bid your blossoms in my bonnet w-ave. 

Emblem of hope and love through future 
years ! " 
Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, 
What time the sun arose on Vennachafs broad 
wave. 

II. 

Such fond conceit, half said, half sung. 
Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. 
All while he strippM the wild-rose spray, 
His axe and bow beside him lay ; 
129 



130 THE PROFHECY. 

For on a pass 'twixt lake and \vood, 

A wakeful sentinel he stood. 

Hark ! — on the rock a footstep mng, 

And instant to his arms he sprung. 

" Stand, or thou diest ! — What, Malise? — soon 

Art thou return'd from Braes-of Doune. 

By thy keen step and glance I know. 

Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe." 

(For \yhile the Fiery Cross hied on, 

On distant scout had Malise gone.) 

" Where sleeps the Chief ? " the henchman said. 

" Apart, in yonder misty glade ; 

To his lone couch I'll be your guide." 

Then call'd a slumberer by his side. 

And stirr"d him with his slacken'd bow, — 

" Up, up, Glentarkin ! rouse thee, ho ! 

We seek the Chieftain ; on the track 

Keep eagle watch till I come back." 



III. 

Together up the pass they sped : 

" W^hat of the foeman?" Norman said. — 

«' Varying reports from near and far ; 

This certain, — that a band of war 

Has for two days been ready boune. 

At prompt command to march from Doune ; 

King James the while, with princely powers, 

Holds revelry in Stirling towers. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. I3I 

Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 

Speak on our glens in thunder loud. 

Inured to bide such bitter bout, 

The warrior's plaid may bear it out ; 

But, Norman, how wilt thou provide 

A shelter for thy bonny bride?'" — 

" What ! know ye not that Roderick's care 

To the lone isle hath caused repair 

Each maid and matron of the clan, 

And every child and aged man 

Unfit for arms? and given his charge, 

Nor skiflf nor shallop, boat nor barge, 

Upon these lakes shall float at large, 

But all beside the islet moor, 

That such dear pledge may rest secure ? " — 



IV. 



*" T is well advised, — the Chieftain's plan 

Bespeaks the father of his clan. 

But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu 

Apart from all his followers true?" — 

" It is because last evening-tide 

Brian an augury hath tried, 

Of that dread kind which must not be 

Unless in dread extremity. 

The Taghairm call'd ; by which, afar, 

Our sires foresaw the events of war. 

Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew. *' — 



32 THE PROPHECY. 

MALISE. 

" Ah ! well the gallant brute I knew ! 

The choicest of the prey we had 

When swept our merrymen Gallangad. 

His hide was snow, his horns were dark, 

His red eye glow'd Hke fiery spark ; 

So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet, 

Sore did he cumber our retreat, 

And kept our stoutest kernes in awe, 

Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. 

But steep and flinty was the road, 

And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad. 

And when we came to Dennan's Row 

A child might scatheless stroke his brow."- 



V. 



NORMAN. 

" That bull was slain ; his reeking hide 
They stretched the cataract beside, 
Whose waters their wild tumult toss 
Adown the black and craggy boss 
Of that huge cliff" whose ample verge 
Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. 
Couch'd on a shelve beneath its brink. 
Close where the thundering torrents sink, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 33 

Rocking beneath their headlong sway, 
And drizzled by the ceaseless spray, 
'Midst groan of rock and roar of stream, 
The wizard waits prophetic dream. 
Nor distant rests the Chief; — but hush! 
See, gliding slow through mist and bush, 
The Hermit gains yon rock, and stands 
To gaze upon our slumbering bands. 
Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost, 
That hovers o'er a slaughter'd host.-^ 
Or raven on the blasted oak, 
That, watching while the deer is broke. 
His morsel claims with sullen croak? '' — 



MALISE. 

" Peace ! peace ! to other than to me 

Thy words were evil augury ; 

But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade 

Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid. 

Not aught that, glean'd from heaven or hell, 

Yon fiend-begotten Monk can tell. 

The Chieftain joins him, see — and now 

Together they descend the brow." 



And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord 
The Hermit Monk held solemn word : - 



134 ^^^^^ PKornECY. 

" Roderick ! it is a fearful strife, 
For man endow'd with mortal life, 
Whose shroud of sentient clay can still 
Feel feverish pang and fainting chill, 
Whose eye can stare in stony trance. 
Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance, 
'T is hard for such to view, unfurl'd, 
The curtain of the future world. 
Yet witness every quaking limb. 
My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim, 
IMy soul with harrowing anguish torn, 
This for my Chieftain have I borne ! — 
The shapes that sought my fearful couch 
An human tongue may ne'er avouch ; 
No mortal man — save he, who, bred 
Between the living and the dead, 
Is gil'ted beyond nature's law — 
Had e'er survived to say he saw. 
At length the fateful answer came 
In characters of living flame ; 
Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll. 
But borne and branded on my soul : 

* IHhirii £5pills thf fovfmost fonnan's life, 
irj)at partu conquers in thir strife' " 

VII. 

" Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care ! 
Good is thine auourv, and fair. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 35 

Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood 

But first our broadswords tasted blood. 

A surer victim still I know, 

Self-offer'd to the auspicious blow ; 

A spy has sought my land this morn, — 

No eve shall witness his return ! 

My followers guard each pass's mouth. 

To east, to westward, and to south ; 

Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide. 

Has charge to lead his steps aside. 

Till in deep path or dingle brown 

He light on those shall bring him down. — 

But see who comes his news to show ! 

Malise ! what tidings of the foe?"' 



VIII. 



" At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive 

Two Barons proud their banners wave. 

I saw the Moray's silver star. 

And mark'd the sable pale of Mar." — 

" By Alpine's soul, high tidings those ! 

I love to hear of worthy foes. 

Whenmove they on?" — " To-morrow's noon 

Will see them here for battle boune." — 

" Then shall it see a meeting stern ! 

But, for the place, — say, couldst thou learn 

Nought of the friendly clans of Earn? 



136 THE PROPHECY. 

Strengthen'd by them we well might bide 

The battle on Benledi's side. 

Thou couldst not ? — well ! Clan- Alpine's men 

Shall man the Trosach's shaggy glen ; 

Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight, 

All in our maids" and matrons' sight, 

Each for his hearth and household fire. 

Father for child, and son for sire, 

Lover for maid beloved ! — But why — 

Is it the breeze aflects mine eye? 

Or dost thou come, ill-omen"d tear ! 

A messenger of doubt or fear? 

No I sooner may the Saxon lance 

L^nfix Benledi from his stance. 

Than doubt or terror can pierce through 

The unvielding heart of Roderick Dhu ! 

'T is stubborn as his trusty targe. 

Each to his post ! — all know- their charge." 

The pibroch sounds, the bands advance. 

The broadswords gleam, the banners dance. 

Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. — 

I turn me from the martial roar. 

And seek Coir-L-riskin once more. 

IX. 

Where is the Douglas? — he is gone ; 
And Ellen sits on the gray stone 
Fast by the cave, and makes her moan ; 
While vainly Allan's words of cheer 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 3/ 

Are poiir'd on her unheeding ear. 
" He will return — dear lady, trust \ — 
With joy return ; — he will — he must. 
Well was it time to seek afar 
Some refuge from impending war, 
When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm 
Are cow'd by the approaching storm. 
I saw their boats, with many a light, 
Floating the livelong yesternight, 
Shifting like flashes darted forth 
By the red streamers of the north ; 
I mark"d at morn how close they ride. 
Thick moor'd by the lone islet's side. 
Like wild ducks couching in the fen 
When stoops the hawk upon the glen. 
Since this rude race dare not abide 
The peril on the mainland side. 
Shall not thy noble father's care 
Some safe retreat for thee prepare ? " 



ELLEN. 

*' No, Allan, no ! Pretext so kind 
My wakeful terrors could not blind. 
When in such tender tone, yet grave, 
Douglas a parting blessing gave. 



138 THE PROPHECY. 

The tear that glistenVl in his eye 

Drown'd not his purpose fixM and high. 

My soul, though feminine and weak, 

Can image his ; e'en as the lake, 

Itself disturbed by slightest stroke, 

Reflects the invulnerable rock. 

He hears report of battle rife, 

He deems himself the cause of strife. 

I saw him redden when the theme 

Turn'd, Allan, on thine idle dream 

Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound. 

Which I, thou said'st, about him wound. 

Think'st thou he trow'd thine omen aught? 

O no ! *t was apprehensive thought 

For the kind youth, — for Roderick too — 

Let me be just — that friend so true ; 

In danger both, and in our cause ! 

Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. 

Why else that solemn warning given — 

' If not on earth, we meet in heaven ''1 

Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane, 

If eve return him not again. 

Am I to hie and make me known? 

Alas ! he goes to Scotland's throne, 

Buys his friends' safety with his own ; 

He goes to do — what I had done, 

Had Douglas' dau<ihter been his son ! " 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 39 

XI. 

ALLAN. 

" Nay, lovely Ellen ! — dearest, nay ! 
If aught should his return delay. 
He only named yon holy fane 
As fitting place to meet again. 
Be sure he's safe ; and for the Graeme, — 
Heaven's blessing on his gallant name! — 
My vision'd sight may yet prove true. 
Nor bode of ill to him or you. 
When did my gifted dream beguile? 
Think of the stranger at the isle. 
And think upon the harpings slow 
That presaged this approaching woe ! 
Sooth was my prophecy of fear ; 
Believe it when it august cheer. 
Would we had left this dismal spot ! 
Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot. 
Of such a wondrous tale I know — 
Dear lady, change that look of woe. 
My harp was wont thy grief to cheer." 

ELLEN. 

*' Well, be it as thou wilt ; I hear, 
But cannot stop the bursting tear." — 
The Minstrel tried his simple art, 
But distant far was Ellen's heart. 



I40 THE PROPHECY. 



ballad: ALICE BRAND. 

Merry it is in the good greenwood, 

When the mavis and merle are singing, 

When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are 
in cry. 
And the hunter's horn is ringing. 

" O AHce Brand, my native land 

Is lost for love of you ; 
And we must hold by wood and wold. 

As outlaws wont to do. 

" O Alice, 't was all for thy locks so bright. 
And 't was all for thine eyes so blue. 

That on the night of our luckless flight 
Thy brother bold I slew. 

'* Now must I teach to hew the beech 

The hand that held the glaive. 
For leaves to spread our lowly bed. 

And stakes to fence our cave. 

" And for vest of pall, thy fingers small, 

That wont on harp to stray, 
A cloak must shear from the slaughter*'d deer. 

To keep the cold away." — 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. I4I 

'* O Richard ! if my brother died, 

'T was but a fatal chance ; 
For darkling was the battle tried, 

And fortune sped the lance. 

"If pall and vair no more I wear, 

Nor thou the crimson sheen, 
As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray. 

As gay the forest-green. 

" And, Richard, if our lot be hard, 

And lost thy native land. 
Still Alice has her own Richard, 

And he his Alice Brand." 



XIII. 



BALLAD CONTINUED. 

'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood, 

So blithe Lady Alice is singing ; 
On the beech's pride, and the oak's brown side, 

Lord Richard's axe is ringing. 

Up spoke the moody Elfin King, 

Who won'd within the hill, — 
Like wind in the porch of a ruin'd church, 

His voice was ghostly shrill. 



142 THE PROPHECY. 

" Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, 

Our moonlight circle's screen? 
Or who comes here to chase the deer, 

Beloved of our Elfin Queen ? 
Or who may dare on wold to wear 

The fairies' fatal green? 

" Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie, 

For thou wert christened man ; 
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly. 

For mutter'd word or ban. 

" Lay on him the curse of the wither''d heart, 

The curse of the sleepless eye ; 
Till he wish and pray that his life would part, 

Nor yet find leave to die." 

XIV. 
BALLAD CONTINUED. 

'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood, 
Though the birds have stilPd their singing ; 

The evening blaze doth Alice raise. 
And Richard is fagots bringing. 

Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, 

Before Lord Richard stands, 
And, as he crossed and bless'd himself, 
*' I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf, 

" That is made with bloody hands." 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 43 

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, 

That woman void of fear : 
*' And if there's blood upon his hand, 

'T is but the blood of deer." — 

" Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood ! 

It cleaves unto his hand. 
The stain of thine own kindly blood, 

The blood of Ethert Brand." 

Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand, 

And made the holy sign : 
"And if there's blood on Richard's hand, 

A spotless hand is mine. 

" And I conjure thee, demon elf. 

By Him whom demons fear, 
To show us whence thou art thyself, 

And what thine errand here ? " — 



XV. 
BALLAD CONTINUED. 

" 'T is merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land, 

When fairy birds are singing, 
When the court doth ride by their monarch's 
side, 

With bit and bridle ringing : 



144 THE PROPHECY. 

" And gayly shines the Fairy-land, — 

But all is glistening show, 
Like the idle gleam that December's beam 

Can dart on ice and snow. 

" And fading, like that varied gleam, 

Is our inconstant shape, 
Who now like knight and lady seem, 

And now like dwarf and ape. 

" It was between the night and day, 

When the Fairy King has power. 
That I sunk down in a sinful fray, 
And 'twixt life and death was snatch'd away. 
To the joyless Elfin bower. 

" But wist I of a woman bold, 

Who thrice my brow durst sign, 
I might regain my mortal mold, 

As fair a form as thine." 

She crossM him once — she cross'd him twice • 

That lady was so brave ; 
The fouler grew his goblin hue, 

The darker grew the cave. 

She cross'd him thrice, that lady bold : 

He rose beneath her hand 
The fairest knight on Scottish mould, 

Her brother, Ethert Brand ! 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 45 

Merry it is in good greenwood, 

When the mavis and merle are singing ; 

But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray, 
When all the bells were ringing. 



XVI. 

Just as the minstrel sounds were stay'd, 

A stranger climb'd the steepy glade ; 

His martial step, his stately mien. 

His hunting-suit of Lincoln green, 

His eagle glance, remembrance claims — 

'T is Snowdoun's Knight, 't is James Fitz-James. 

Ellen beheld as in a dream, 

Then, starting, scarce suppress'd a scream ; 

*' O stranger ! in such hour of fear 

W' hat evil hap has brought thee here ? "^ — 

"An evil hap how can it be 

That bids me look again on thee ? 

By promise bound, my former guide 

Met me betimes this morning-tide, 

And marshaird over bank and bourne 

The happy path of my return." — 

*' The happy path ! — what ! said he naught 

Of war, of battle to be fought, 

Of guarded pass ? " — "'No, by my faith ! 

Nor saw I aught could augur scathe." — 



46 THE PRO r II EC Y. 

'* O haste thee, Allan, to the kern: 
Yonder his tartans I discern; 
Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 
That he will guide the stranger sure ! — 
What prompted thee, unhappy man? 
The meanest serf in Roderick's clan 
Had not been bribed, by love or fear. 
Unknown to him to guide thee here." — 

XVII. 

" Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be. 

Since it is worthy care from thee ; 

Yet life I hold but idle breath. 

When love or honor's weigh'd with death. 

Then let me profit by my chance. 

And speak my purpose bold at once. 

I come to bear thee from a wild 

Where ne'er before such blossom smiled ; 

By this soft hand to lead thee far 

From frantic scenes of feud and war. 

Near Bochastle my horses wait ; 

They bear us soon to Stirling gate. 

I '11 place thee in a lovely bower, 

ril guard thee like a tender flower '' — 

'' O hush. Sir Knight ! 't were female art 

To say I do not read thy heaii ; 

Too much, before, my selfish ear 

Was idly soothed my praise to hear. 



THE LADY OF TlfJC LAKE. 1 4/ 

That fatal bait hath lured thee back, 

In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track ; 

And how, O how, can I atone 

The wreck my vanity brought on ! — 

One way remains — Pll tell him all — 

Yes ! struggling bosom, forth it shall ! 

Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, 

Buy thine own pardon with thy shame ! 

But first — my father is a man 

Outlaw'd and exiled, under ban ; 

The price of blood is on his head ; 

With me 't were infamy to wed ! 

Still wouldst thou speak ? — then hear tlie 

truth : 
Fitz-James, there is a nobh youth — 
If yet he is ! — exposed for me 
And mine to dread extremity. — 
Thou hast the secret of my heart : 
Forgive, be generous, and depart ! " 



Fitz-James knew every wily train 

A lady's fickle heart to gain. 

But here he knew and felt them vain. 

There shot no glance from Ellen's eye. 

To give her steadfast speech the lie ; 

In maiden confidence she stood, 

Thoutrh mantled in her cheek the blood, 



148 THE PROPHECY. 

And told her love with such a sigh 

Of deep and hopeless agony, 

As death had seaPd her Malcolm's doom 

And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. 

Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye, 

But not with hope fled sympathy. 

He proffered to attend her side, 

As brother would a sister guide. 

" O, little know'st thou Roderick's heart ! 

Safer for both we go apart. 

O, haste thee, and from Allan learn 

If thou mayst trust yon wily kern." 

With hand upon his forehead laid. 

The conflict of his mind to shade, 

A parting step or two he made ; 

Then, as some thought had crossed his brain, 

He paused, and turn'd, and came again. 

XIX. 

" Hear, lady, yet a parting word ! — 
It chanced in fight that my poor sword 
Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. 
This ring the grateful Monarch gave, 
And bade, when I had boon to crave, 
To bring it back, and boldly claim 
The recompense that I would name, 
Ellen, I am no courtly lord, 
But one who lives by lance and sword, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 49 

Whose castle is his helm and shield, 

His lordship the embattled field. 

What from a prince can I demand, 

Who neither reck of state nor land? 

Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine ; 

Each guard and usher knows the sign. 

Seek thou the King without delay : 

This signet shall secure thy way : 

And claim thy suit, whate'er it be. 

As ransom of his pledge to me." 

He placed the golden circlet on, 

Paused — kiss'd her hand — and then was 

gone. 
The aged Minstrel stood aghast, 
So hastily Fitz-James shot past. 
He join'd his guide, and wending down 
The ridges of the mountain brown. 
Across the stream they took their way 
That joins Lech Katrine to Achray. 



XX. 



All in the Trosachs' glen was still. 
Noontide was sleeping on the hill : 
Sudden his guide whoop'd loud and high 
" Murdoch ! was that a signal cry? " — 
He stammer'd forth, " I shout to scare 
Yon raven from his dainty fare." 



r " 



150 THE PROPHECY. 

He look'd — he knew the raven's prey, 
His own brave steed : " Ah, gallant gray ! 
For thee — for me, perchance — "t were well 
We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. — 
Murdoch, move first — but silently; 
Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die 
Jealous and sullen, on they fared, 
Each silent, each upon his guard. 



XXI. 

Now wound the path its dizzy ledge 
Around a precipice's edge, 
When lo ! a wasted female form. 
Blighted by wrath of sun and storm. 
In tatter'd weeds and wild array, 
Stood on a cliff beside the way, 
And, glancing round her restless eye 
Upon the wood, the rock, the sky, 
Seem'd naught to mark, yet all to spy. 
Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom ; 
With gesture wild she waved a plume 
Of feathers, which the eagles fling 
To crag and cliff from dusky wing ; 
Such spoils her desperate step had sought, 
Where scarce was footing for the goat. 
The tartan plaid she first descried. 
And shriek''d till all the rocks replied ; 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 151 

As loud she laugh'd when near they drew, 
For then the Lowland garb she knew ; 
And then her hands she wildly wrung, 
And then she wept, and then she sung, — 
She sung ! — the voice in better time 
Perchance to harp or lute might chime ; 
And now, though strain'd and roughen'd, still 
Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill. 

XXII. 
SONG. 

They bid me sleep, they bid me pray ; 

They say my brain is warp'd and wrung ; 
I cannot sleep on Highland brae, 

I cannot pray in Highland tongue. 
But were I now where Allan glides. 
Or heard my native Devan's tides, 
So sweetly would I rest, and pray 
That Heaven would close my wintry day ! 

'T was thus my hair they bade me braid, 
They bade me to the church repair ; 

It was my bridal morn, they said, 

And my true love would meet me there. 

But woe betide the cruel guile 

That drown'd in blood the morning smile ! 

And woe betide the fairy dream ! 

I only waked to sob and scream. 



152 THE rROPHECY. 



*' Who is this maid? what means her lay? 
She hovers o'er the hollow way, 
And flutters wide her mantle gray, 
As the lone heron spreads his wing 
l)y twilight, o'er a haunted spring." — 
" 'T is Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said, 
" A crazed and captive Lowland maid, 
Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, 
When Roderick foray'd Devan-side. 
The gay bridegroom resistance made, 
And felt our Chief's unconquer'd blade. 
I marvel she is now at large. 
But oft she ■'scapes from Maudlin's charge. 
Hence, brain-sick fool ! " He raised his bow : 
" Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow, 
I '11 pitch thee from the cliff as tar 
As ever peasant pitch'd a bar ! " — 
"Thanks, champion, thanks!"" the Maniac 

cried. 
And pressed her to Fitz-James's side. 
" See the gray pennons I prepare, 
To seek my true-love through the air ! 
I will not lend that savage groom, 
To break his fall, one downy plume ! 
No ! — deep amid disjointed stones. 
The wolves shall batten on his bones, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. I 53 

And then shall his detested plaid, 
By bush and brier in mid-air staid, 
Wave forth a banner fair and free, 
Meet signal for their revelry." — 

XXIV. 

" Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still !" — 
" O ! thou look'st kindly, and I will. 
Mine eye has dried and wasted been. 
But still it loves the Lincoln green ; 
And though mine ear is all unstrung, 
Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue. 



SONG. 

** For O my sweet William was forester true, 
He stole poor Blanche's heart away ! 

His coat it was all of the greenwood hue, 
And so blithely he triird the Lowland lay ! 

" It was not that I meant to tell, — 
But thou art wise, and guessest well." 
Then, in a low and broken tone, 
And hurried note, the song went on. 
Still on the clansman fearfully 
She fix'd her apprehensive eye ; 
Then turn'd it on the Knight ; and then 
Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. 



154 THE PROPIIECY. 

XXV. 
SONG CONTINUED. 

The toils are pitclvd, and the stakes are set, — 

Ever sing merrily, merrily ; 
The bows they bend, and the knives they whet, 

Hunters live so cheerily. 

It was a stag, a stag of ten. 

Bearing his branches sturdily ; 
He came stately down the glen, — 

Ever sing hardily, hardily. 

It was there he met with a wounded doe, 

She was bleeding deathfully ; 
She warn'd him of the toils below, 

O, so faithfully, fiiithfully ! 

He had an eye. and he could heed, — 

Ever sing warily, waiily ; 
He had a foot, and he could speed, — 

Hunters watch so narrowly. 



Fitz-James's mind was passion-toss'd, 
When Ellen's hints and fears were lost ; 
But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought. 
And Blanche's sons: conviction brousfht. 



tup: lady of the lake. 155 

Not like a stag that spies the snare, 

But lion of the hunt aware, 

He waved at once his blade on high : 

" Disclose thy treachery or die ! " 

Forth at full speed the clansman flew, 

But in his race his bow he drew : 

The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest. 

And thriird in Blanche's faded breast. — 

Murdoch of Alpine ! prove thy speed. 

For ne'er had Alpine's son such need : 

With heart of fire, and foot of wind. 

The fierce avenger is behind ! 

Fate judges of the rapid strife — • 

The forfeit death — the prize is life ! 

Thy kindred ambush lies before. 

Close couch'd upon the heathery moor ; 

Them couldst thou reach ! — it may not be : 

Thine ambush'd kin thou ne'er shalt see, — 

The fiery Saxon gains on thee ! 

Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, 

As lightning strikes the pine to dust ; 

With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain 

Ere he can win his blade again. 

Bent o'er the fallen, with falcon eye. 

He grimly smiled to see him die ; 

Then slower wended back his way. 

Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. 



56 THE PROPHECY. 



XXVII. 

She sate beneath the birchen tree, 

Her elbow resting on her knee ; 

She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, 

And gazed on it, and feebly laugh'd ; 

Her wreath of broom and feathers gray. 

Daggled with blood, beside her lay. 

The Knight to staunch the life-stream tried, 

" Stranger, it is in vain!" she cried, 

" This hour of death has given me more 

Of reason's power than years before ; 

For, as these ebbing veins decay. 

My frenzied visions fade away! 

A helpless injured wretch I die, 

And something tells me in thine eye 

That thou wert mine avenger born. 

Seest thou this tress? — O, still I've worn 

This little tress of yellow hair. 

Through danger, frenzy, and despair ! 

It once was bright and clear as thine, 

But blood and tears have dimmed its shine. 

I will not tell thee when 't was shred. 

Nor from what guiltless victim's head, — 

My brain would turn ! — but it shall wave 

Like plumage on thy helmet brave, 

Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, 

And thou wilt bring it me again. — 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. I 5/ 

I waver still. — O God ! more bright 
Let reason beam her parting light ! — 
O, by thy knighthood's honored sign, 
And for thy life preserved by mine, 
When thou shalt see a darksome man 
Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan, 
With tartans broad and shadowy plume. 
And hand of blood, and brow of gloom. 
Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong. 
And wTeak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong ! — 
They watch for thee by pass and fell . . . 
Avoid the path . . . O God ! . . . farewell." 



XXVIII. 

A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James ; 

Fast pour'd his eyes at pity's claims ; 

And now, with mingled grief and ire, 

He saw the murdered maid expire. 

" God, in my need, be my relief. 

As I wreak this on yonder Chief! " 

A lock from Blanche's tresses fair 

He blended with her bridegroom's hair 

The mingled braid in blood he dyed, 

And placed it on his bonnet-side : 

" By him whose word is truth, I swear 

No other favor will I wear, 

Till this sad token I imbrue 

In the best blood of Roderick Dhu .' — 



58 THE PROPHECY. 

But hark I what means yon faint halloo? 
The chase is up, — but they shall know 
The stag at bay's a dangerous foe."' 
Barr'd from the known but guarded way, 
Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must 

stray, 
And oft must change his desperate track 
By stream and precipice turn'd back. 
Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length, 
From lack of food and loss of strength, 
He couch'd him in a thicket hoar. 
And thought his toils and perils o'er : — 
"Of all my rash adventures past, 
This frantic feat must prove the last ! 
Who e'er so mad but might have guess'd 
That all this Highland hornet's nest 
Would muster up in swarms so soon 
As e"er they heard of bands at Doune .'' — 
Like bloodhounds now they search me out : 
Hark to the whistle and the shout ! — 
If farther through the wilds I go, 
I only fall upon the foe : 
ril couch me here till evening gray. 
Then darkling try my dangerous way." 



The shades of eve come slowly down, 
The woods are wrapt in deeper brown, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 59 

The owl awakens from her dell, 

The fox is heard upon the fell ; 

Enough remains of glimmering light 

To guide the wanderer's steps aright, 

Yet not enough from far to show 

His figure to the watchful foe. 

With cautious step, and ear awake, 

He climbs the crag and threads the brake : 

And not the summer solstice there 

Tempered the midnight mountain air, 

But every breeze that swept the wold 

Benumb'd his drenched limbs with cold. 

In dread, in danger, and alone, 

Famish'd and chill'd, through ways unknown, 

Tangled and steep, he journeyM on ; 

Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, 

A watch-fire close before him burn'd. 



XXX. 

Beside its embers red and clear 
Bask'd in his plaid a mountaineer ; 
And up he sprung, with sword in hand : 
"Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!" — 
"A stranger." — •' What dost thou require?"— 
" Rest and a guide, and food and fire ; 
My life's beset, my path is lost. 
The gale has chill'd my limbs with frost." — 



l6o THE PROPHECY. 

*' Art thou a friend to Roderick?" — " No." — 

" Thou dar'st not call thyself a foe? " — 

" I dare ! to him and all the band 

He brings to aid his murderous hand." — 

" Bold words ! — but, though the beast of game 

The privilege of chase may claim, 

Though space and law the stag we lend, 

Ere hound we slip or bow we bend. 

Who ever reck'd where, how, or when 

The prowling fox was trapped or slain? 

Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie. 

Who say thou cam'st a secret spy ! " — 

" They do, by heaven ! — come Roderick Dhu, 

And of his clan the boldest two, 

And let me but till morning rest, 

I write the falsehood on their crest." — 

"If by the blaze I mark aright, 

Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight." — 

" Then by these tokens mayst thou know 

Each proud oppressor's mortal foe." — 

" Enough, enough ; sit down and share 

A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare." 

XXXI. 

He gave him of his Highland cheer, 
The harden'd flesh of mountain deer ; 
Dry fuel on the fire he laid. 
And bade the Saxon share his plaid. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. l6l 

He tended him like welcome guest, 

Then thus his further speech addressed : — 

" Stranger, I am to Rhoderick Dhu 

A clansman born, a kinsman true ; 

Each word against his honor spoke 

Demands of me avenging stroke ; 

Yet more, — upon thy fate, 't is said, 

A mighty augury is laid. 

It rests with me to wind my horn, — 

Thou art with numbers overborne ; 

It rests with me, here, brand to brand. 

Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand : 

But not for clan, nor kindred's cause, 

Will I depart from honor's laws ; 

To assail a wearied man were shame. 

And stranger is a holy name ; 

Guidance and rest, and food and fire, 

In vain he never must require. 

Then rest thee here till dawn of day ; 

Myself will guide thee on the way. 

O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward, 

Till past Clan- Alpine's outmost guard. 

As far as Coilantogle's ford ; 

From thence thy warrant is thy sword." — 

" I take thy courtesy, by heaven. 

As freely as 't is nobly given ! " — 

" Well, rest thee ; for the bittern's cry 

Sings us the lake's wild lullaby." 



1 62 THE PROPHECY. 

With that he shook the gatherd heath. 
And spread his plaid upon the wreath ; 
And the brave foemen, side by side. 
Lay peaceful down like brothers tried. 
And slept until the dawning beaii> 
Purpled the mountain and the stream. 



CANTO THE FIFTH. 
Z\)z Combat. 



CANTO THE FIFTH. 

THE COMBAT. 



Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, 
When first, by the bewildefd pilgrim spied, 

It smiles upon the dreary brow of night. 
And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, 
And lights the fearful path on mountain- 
side, — 

Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, 
Giving to horror grace, to danger pride. 

Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star. 

Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the 
brow of War. 



II. 

That early beam, so fair and sheen. 
Was twinkling through the hazel screen, 
When, rousing at its glimmer red, 
The warriors left their lowly bed, 
165 



1 66 THE COMBAT. 

LookM out upon the dappled sky, 
Mutter'd their soldier matins by, 
And then awaked their fire, to steal. 
As short and rude, their soldier meal. 
That o'er, the Gael around him threw 
His graceful plaid of varied hue. 
And, true to promise, led the way. 
By thicket green and mountain gray. 
A wildering path ! — they winded now 
Along the precipice's brow. 
Commanding the rich scenes beneath. 
The windings of the Forth and Teith, 
And all the vales between that lie, 
Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky ; 
Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance 
Gain'd not the length of horseman's lance. 
'T was oft so steep the foot was fain 
Assistance from the hand to gain ; 
So tangled oft, that, bursting through, 
Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew, - 
That diamond dew, so pure and clear, 
It rivals all but Beauty's tear! 



III. 

At length they came where, stern and steep, 
The hill sinks down upon the deep. 
Here Vennachar in silver flows, 
There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose; 



■=y r-3^~ 







THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 6/ 

Ever the hollow path twined on. 

Beneath steep bank and threatening stone ; 

An hundred men might hold the post 

With hardihood against a host. 

The rugged mountain's scanty cloak 

Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, 

With shingles bare and cliffs between. 

And patches bright of bracken green. 

And heather black, that waved so high 

It held the copse in rivalry. 

But where the lake slept deep and still, 

Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill ; 

And oft both path and hill were torn, 

Where wintry torrent down had borne 

And heap'd upon the cumber"d land 

Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. 

So toilsome was the road to trace. 

The guide, abating of his pace, 

Led slowly through the pass's jaws, 

And ask'd Fitz-James by what strange cause 

He sought these wilds, traversed by few. 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. 



IV. 

" Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried, 
Hangs in my belt and by my side ; 
Yet, sooth to tell," the Saxon said, 
" I dreamt not now to claim its aid. 



1 68 THE COMBAT. 

When here, but three clays since, I came. 
Bewildered in pursuit of game, 
All seem'd as peaceful and as still 
As the mist slumbering on yon hill ; 
Thy dangerous Chief was then afar, 
Nor soon expected back from war. 
Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide. 
Though deep perchance the villain lied/'- 
" Yet why a second venture try ? " — 
" A warrior thou, and ask me why? 
Moves our free course by such fix'd cause 
As gives the poor mechanic laws ? 
Enough, I sought to drive away 
The lazy hours of peaceful day ; 
Slight cause will then suffice to guide 
A Knight's free footsteps far and wide, — 
A falcon flown, a gray hound stray'd, 
The merry glance of mountain maid ; 
Or, if a path be dangerous known, 
The danger's self is lure alone." — 



" Thy secret keep ; I urge thee not ; — 
Yet, ere again ye sought this spot. 
Say, heard ye not of Lowland war. 
Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar?'' 
" No, by my word ; of bands prepared 
To guard King James's sports I heard ; 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 69 

Nor doubt I ought, but, when they hear 
This muster of the mountaineer, 
Their pennons will abroad be flung, 
Which else in Doune had peaceful hung." — 
" Free be they flung ! for we were loth 
Their silken folds should feast the moth ; 
Free be they flung ! — as free shall wave 
Clan-Alpine's Pine in banner brave. 
But, stranger, peaceful since you came, 
Bewilder'd in the mountain game. 
Whence the bold boast by which you show 
Vich-Alpine's vow'd and mortal foe?"' — 
"Warrior, but yester-morn I knew 
Naught of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 
Save as an outlawed desperate man, 
The chief of a rebellious clan. 
Who, in the Regent's court and sight, 
With ruffian dagger stabb'd a knight ; 
Yet this alone might from his part 
Sever each true and loyal heart." 



VI. 



Wrothful at such arraignment foul, 

Dark lower'd the clansman's sable scowl. 

A space he paused, then sternly said, 

' ' And heard'st thou why he drew his blade ? 

Heard\st thou that shameful word and blow 

J brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe? 



I/O THE COMBAT. 

What reck'd the Chieftain if he stood 
On Highland heath or Holy-Rood? 
He rights such wrong where it is given, 
If it were in the court of heaven ! " — 
" Still was it outrage ; — yet, "t is true, 
Not then claimed sovereignty his due ; 
While Albany with feeble hand 
Held borrowed truncheon of command. 
The young King, mew'd in Stirling tower, 
Was stranger to respect and power. 
But then, thy Chieftain^s robber life ! — 
Winning mean prey by causeless strife, 
Wrenching from ruin'd Lowland swain 
His herds and harvest rear'd in vain, — 
Methinks a soul like thine should scorn 
The spoils from such foul foray bprne." 

VII. 

The Gael beheld him grim the while. 
And answered with disdainful smile : 
" Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 
I mark'd thee send delighted eye 
Far to the south and east, where lay. 
Extended in succession gay, 
Deep waving fields and pastures green. 
With gentle slopes and groves between ; - 
These fertile plains, that soften'd vale. 
Were once the birthright of the Gael : 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. I /I 

The stranger came with iron hand. 
And from our fathers reft the land. 
Where dwell we now ? See, rudely swell 
Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. 
Ask we this savage hill we tread 
For fattened steer or household bread, 
Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, 
And well the mountain might reply, — 
' To you, as to your sires of yore, 
Belong the target and claymore ! 
I give you shelter in my breast, 
Your own good blades must win the rest.' 
Pent in this fortress of the North, 
Think'st thou we will not sally forth, 
To spoil the spoiler as we may. 
And from the robber rend the prey ? 
Ay, by my soul ! — While on yon plain 
The Saxon rears one shock of grain. 
While of ten thousand herds there strays 
But one along yon rivers maze, — 
The Gael, of plain and river heir. 
Shall with strong hand redeem his share ! 
Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold 
That plundering Lowland field and fold 
Is aught but retribution true ? — 
Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dim." 



1/2 THE COMBAT. 

VIII. 

Answered Fitz-James : " And if I sought, 

Think'st thou no other could be brought? 

What deem ye of my path waylaid ? 

My life given o'er to ambuscade ? " — 

" As of a meed to rashness due : 

Hadst thou sent warning fair and true, — 

I seek my hound or falcon stray'd, 

I seek, good faith, a Highland maid, — 

Free hadst thou been to come and go ; 

But secret path marks secret foe. 

Nor yet for this, even as a spy, 

Hadst thou, unheard, been doom'd to die, 

Save to fulfil an augury." — 

" Well, let it pass ; nor will I now 

Fresh cause of enmity avow, 

To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. 

Enough, I am by promise tied 

To match me with this man of pride : 

Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen 

In peace ; but when I come agen 

I come with banner, brand, and bow, 

As leader seeks his mortal foe. 

For love-lorn swain in lady's bower 

Ne'er panted for the appointed hour, 

As I, until before me stand 

This rebel Chieftain and his band ! " — 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 73 



" Have then thy wish ! " — He whistled 

shrill, 
And he was answered from the hill ; 
Wild as the scream of the curlew, 
From crag to crag the signal flev/. 
Instant, through copse and heath arose 
Bonnets and spears and bended bows ; 
On right, on left, above, below, 
Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; 
From shingles gray their lances start, 
The bracken bush sends forth the dart, 
The rushes and the willow-wand 
Are bristling into axe and brand. 
And every tuft of broom gives life 
To plaided warrior arm'd for strife. 
That whistle garrisoned the glen 
At once with full five hundred men, 
As if the yawning hill to heaven 
A subterranean host had given : 
Watching their leader's beck and will. 
All silent there they stood, and still. 
Like the loose crags whose threatening mass 
Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, 
As if an infant's touch could urge 
Their headlong passage down the verge. 
With step and weapon forward flung, 
Upon the mountain-side they hung. 



174 THE COMBAT. 

The Mountaineer cast glance of pride 

Along Benledi's living side, 

Then fix'd his eye and sable brow 

Full on Fitz-James : " How say'st thou now? 

These are Clan- Alpine's warriors true ; 

And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu ! " 



X. 

Fitz-James was brave : — though to his heart 

The life-blood thrilPd with sudden start, 

He mann'd himself with dauntless air. 

Returned the Chief his haughty stare, 

His back against a rock he bore, 

And tirmly placed his foot before : — 

"Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly 

From its firm base as soon as I." 

Sir Roderick mark'd, — and in his eyes 

Respect was mingled with surprise. 

And the stern joy which warriors feel 

In foemen worthy of their steel. 

Short space he stood — then waved his hand : 

Down sunk the disappearing band ; 

Each warrior vanished where he stood, 

In broom or bracken, heath or wood ; 

Sunk brand and spear and bended bow, 

In osiers pale and copses low ; 

It seem'd as if their mother Earth 

Had swallow'd up her warlike birth. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 75 

The wind's last breath had toss'd in air 
Pennon and plaid and plumage fair, — 
The next but swept a lone hill-side, 
Where heath and fern were waving wide : 
The sun's last glance was glinted back 
From spear and glaive, from targe and jack, — 
The next, all unreflected, shone 
On bracken green and cold gray stone. 

XI. 

Fitz-James look'd round, — yet scarce believed 

The witness that his sight received ; 

Such apparition well might seem 

Delusion of a dreadful dream. 

Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 

And to his look the Chief replied : 

" Fear naught — nay, that I need not say — 

But doubt not aught from mine array. 

Thou art my guest ; — I pledged my word 

As far as Coilantogle ford : 

Nor would I call a clansman's brand 

For aid against one valiant hand, 

Though on our strife lay every vale 

Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. 

So move we on ; — I only meant 

To show the reed on which you leant. 

Deeming this path you might pursue 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu." 



176 THE COMBAT. 

They moved : — I said Fitz-James was brave 
As ever knight that belted glaive, 
Yet dare not say that now his blood 
Kept on its wont and tempered flood, 
As, following Roderftk's stride, he drew 
That seeming lonesome pathway through. 
Which yet by fearful proof was rife 
With lances, that, to take his life. 
Waited but signal from a guide, 
So late dishonored and defied. 
Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round 
The vanished guardians of the ground ; 
And still from copse and heather deep 
Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, * 
And in the plovers shrilly strain 
The signal whistle heard again. 
Nor breathed he free till far behind 
The pass was left ; for then they wind 
Along a wide and level green, 
Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, 
Nor rush nor bush of broom was near. 
To hide a bonnet or a spear. 



XII. 

The Chief in silence strode before. 
And reach'd that torrent's sounding shore, 
Which, daughter of three mighty lakes. 
From Vennachar in silver breaks, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. I// 

Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 

On Bochastle the mouldering lines, 

Where Rome, the Empress of the world, 

Of yore her eagle wings unfurl'd. 

And here his course the Chieftain stayed, 

Threw down his target and his plaid, 

And to the Lowland warrior said : 

" Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, 

Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. 

This murderous Chief, this ruthless man. 

This head of a rebellious clan. 

Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward. 

Far past Clan- Alpine's outmost guard. 

Now, man to man, and steel to steel, 

A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. 

See, here all vantageless I stand, 

Arm'd like thyself with single brand ; 

For this is Coilantogle ford. 

And thou must keep thee with thy sword ! " 



The Saxon paused : "I ne'er delay 'd, 
When foeman bade me draw my blade ; 
Nay, more, brave Chief, I vow'd thy death ; 
Yet sure thy fair and generous faith. 
And my deep debt for life preserved, 
A better mead have well deserved : 



178 THE COMBAT. 

Can naught but blood our feud atone? 

Are there no means ? '^ — " No, stranger, none ! 

And hear, — to fire thy flagging zeal, — 

The Saxon cause rests on thy steel ; 

For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred 

Between the living and the dead : 

' Who spills the foremost foeman's life. 

His party conquers in the strife.' " — 

" Then, by my word," the Saxon said, 

" The riddle is already read. 

Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff, — 

There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff. 

Thus Fate hath solved her prophecy ; 

Then yield to Fate, and not to me. 

To James at Stirling let us go, 

When, if thou wilt be still his foe, 

Or if the King shall not agree 

To grant thee grace and favor free, 

I plight mine honor, oath, and word, 

That, to thy native strengths restored, 

With each advantage shalt thou stand 

That aids thee now to guard thy land." 

XIV. 

Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye : 
" Soars thy presumption, then, so high, 
Because a wretched kern ye slew, 
Homage to name to Roderick Dhu? 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 79 

He yields not, he, to man nor Fate ! 
Thou add'st but fuel to my hate ; — 
My clansman's blood demands revenge. 
Not yet prepared? — By heaven, I change 
My thought, and hold thy valor light 
As that of some vain carpet knight, 
Who ill deserved my courteous care, 
And whose best boast is but to wear 
A braid of his fair lady's hair." — 
" I thank thee, Roderick, for the word! 
It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; 
For I have sworn this braid to stain 
In the best blood that warms thy vein. 
Now, truce, farewell! and, ruth, begone! 
Yet think not that by thee alone, 
Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown; 
Though not from copse or heath or cairn 
Start at my whistle clansmen stern, 
Of this small horn one feeble blast 
Would fearful odds against thee cast. 
But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt, 
We try this quarrel hilt to hilt." 
Then each at once his falchton drew. 
Each on the ground his scabbard threw, 
Each look'd to sun and stream and plain, 
As what they ne'er might see again ; 
Then foot and point and eye opposed. 
In dubious strife they darkly closed. 



l80 THE COMBAT. 



XV. 



Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu 
That on the field his targe he threw, 
Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 
Had death so often dash'd aside ; 
For, train'd abroad his arms to wield, 
Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. 
He practised every pass and ward. 
To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard; 
While less expert, though stronger far, 
The Gael maintain'd unequal war. 
Three times in closing strife they stood, 
And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood ; 
No stinted draught, no scanty tide. 
The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 
Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain. 
And shower'd his blows like wintry rain; 
And, as firm rock or castle-roof 
Against the winter shower is proof. 
The foe, invulnerable still, 
Foird his wild rage by steady skill ; 
Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 
Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 
And backward born upon the lea. 
Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. l8l 



" Now yield tliee, or by Him who made 

The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade ! "- 

" Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! 

Let recreant yield, who fears to die.'^ — 

Like adder darting from his coil, 

Like wolf that dashes through the toil. 

Like mountain-cat who guards her young. 

Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung ; 

Received, but reck'd not of, a wound, 

And lock'd his arms his foeman round. — 

Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! 

No maiden's hand is round thee thrown ! 

That desperate grasp thy frame might feel " 

Through bars of brass and triple steel ! 

They tug, they strain ! down, down they go. 

The Gael above, Fitz-James below. 

The Chieftain's gripe his throat compress'd. 

His knee was planted in his breast ; 

His clotted locks he backward threw. 

Across his brow his hand he drew, 

From blood and mist to clear his sight. 

Then gleam'd aloft his dagger bright ! 

But hate and fury ill supplied 

The stream of life's exhausted tide, 

And all too late the advantage came. 

To turn the odds of deadly game ; 



1 82 THE COMBAT. 

For, while the dagger gleam'd on high, 
Reel'd soul and sense, reePd brain and eye. 
Down came the blow ! but in the heath 
The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 
Tlie struggling foe may now unclasp 
The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp ; 
Unwounded from the dreadful close, 
But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 

XVII. 

He falter'd thanks to Heaven for life, 

Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife ; 

Next on his foe his look he cast. 

Whose every gasp appear'd his last ; 

In Roderick's gore he dipp'd the braid, — 

" Poor Blanche ! thy wrongs are dearly paid ; 

Yet with thy foe must die, or live. 

The praise that faith and valor give." 

With that he blew a bugle note. 

Undid the collar from his throat, 

Unbonneted, and by the wave 

Sate down his brow and hands to lave. 

Then faint afar are heard the feet 

Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet ; 

The sounds increase ; and now are seen 

Four mounted squires in Lincoln green ; 

Two who bear lance, and two who lead 

By loosened rein a saddled steed ; 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 83 

Each onward held his headlong course, 
And by Fitz-James rein'd up his horse, — 
With wonder viewVl the bloody spot, — 
" Exclaim not, gallants ! question not. 
You, Herbert and Luffness, alight, 
And bind the wounds of yonder knight ; 
Let the gray palfrey bear his weight, 
We destined for a fairer freight. 
And bring him on to Stirling straight ; 
I will before at better speed, 
To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. 
The sun rides high ; — I must be boune 
To see the archer-game at noon ; 
But lightly Bayard clears the lea. — 
De Vaux and Herries, follow me. 



. XVIII. 

" Stand, Bayard, stand!" — the steed obey'd, 

With arching neck and bended head, 

And glancing eye and quivering ear, 

As if he loved his lord to hear. 

No foot Fitz-Janies in stirrup staid. 

No grasp upon the saddle laid. 

But wreathed his left hand in the mane, 

And lightly bounded from the plain, 

Turn-d on the horse his armed heel. 

And stirr'd his courage with the steel. 



1 84 THE COMBAT. 

Bounded his fiery steed in air, 
Tlie rider sate erect and fair, 
Tlien like a bolt from steel crossbow 
Forth launched, along the plain they go. 
They dash'd that rapid torrent through^ 
And up Carhonie's hill they flew ; 
Still at the gallop pricked the Knight, 
His merrymen followed as they might. 
Along thy banks, swift Teith, they ride, 
And in the race they mock thy tide ; 
Torry and Lendrick now are past. 
And Deanstown lies behind them cast ; 
They rise, the banner'd towers of Doune, 
They sink in distant woodland soon ; 
Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire. 
They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre ; 
They mark just glance and disappear 
The lofty brow of ancient Kier ; 
They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides, 
Dark Forth, amid thy sluggish tides. 
And on the opposing shore take ground. 
With plash, with scramble, and with bound. 
Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth ; 
And soon the bulwark of the North, 
Gray Stirling, with her towers and town, 
Upon their fleet career looked down. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 85 
XIX. 

As up the flinty path they strairi'd 

Sudden his steed the leader rein'd ; 

A signal to his squire he flung, 

Who instant to his stirrup sprung : 

" Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodman gray. 

Who townward holds the rocky way, 

Of stature tall and poor array ? 

Mark'st thou the firm yet active stride 

With which he scales the mountain-side? 

Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom? ^' 

" No, by my word ; — a burly groom 

He seems, who in the field or chase 

A baron's train would nobly grace." — 

" Out, out, De Vaux! can fear supply, 

And jealousy, no sharper eye ? 

Afar, ere to the hill he drew. 

That stately form and step I knew ; 

Like form in Scotland is not seen. 

Treads not such step on Scottish green. 

'T is James of Douglas, by Saint Serle, — 

The uncle of the banish'd Earl ! 

Away, away to court, to show 

The near approach of dreaded foe : 

The King must stand upon his guard ; 

Douglas and he must meet prepared." 

Then right-hand wheeled their steeds, and straight 

They won the Castle's postern gate. 



1 86 THE COMBAT. 

XX. 

The Douglas, who had bent his way 
From Cambus-kenneth's abbey gray. 
Now, as he climb'd the rocky shelf. 
Held sad communion with himself: — 
"Yes ! all is true my fears could frame ; 
A prisoner lies the noble Graeme, 
And fiery Roderick soon will feel 
The vengeance of the royal steel. 
I, only I, can ward their fate, — 
God grant the ransom come not late ! 
The Abbess hath her promise given, 
My child shall be the bride of Heaven ; — 
Be pardon'd one repining tear! 
For he who gave her knows how dear. 
How excellent! — but that is by. 
And now my business is — to die. — 
Ye towers, within whose circuit dread 
A Douglas by his sovereign bled ; 
And thou, O sad and fatal mound, 
That oft hast heard the death-axe sound. 
As on the noblest of the land 
Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand, — 
The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 
Prepare — for Douglas seeks his doom! 
But hark ! what blithe and jolly peal 
Makes the Franciscan steeple reel ? 
And see ! upon the crowded street, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 8/ 

In motley groups what masquers meet ! 

Banner and pageant, pipe and drum, 

And merry morris-dancers come. 

I guess, by all this quaint array, 

The burghers hold their sports to-day. 

James will be there ; he loves such show. 

Where the good yeoman bends his bow, 

And the tough wrestler foils his foe, 

As well as where in proud career. 

The high-born tilter shivers spear. 

ril follow to the Castle-park, 

And play my prize ; King James shall mark 

If age has tamed these sinews stark, 

Whose force so oft in happier days 

His boyish wonder loved to praise." 



XXI. 



The Castle gates were open flung. 

The quivering drawbridge rock'd and rung. 

And echo'd loud the flinty street 

Beneath the coursers'' clattering feet, 

As slowly down the steep descent 

Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, 

While all along the crowded way 

Was jubilee and loud huzza. 

And ever James was bending low 

To his white jennet's saddle bow, 



Ii>i> THE COMSAT. 

DofVing his cap to city dame. 
Who smilod and bhish'd for pride and shame. 
Anil well the simperer might be vain, — 
lie chose the t'airest of the train. 
Ciravely he greets each city sire. 
Commends each pageant's quaint attire, 
C^.ives to the dancers thanks aloud, 
And smiles and nods upon the croNvd. 
\\'ho rend the heavens with their acclaims, — 
'* l.ong live the Commons' King, King James !" 
Behind tiie King throng'd peer and knight. 
And noble dame and damsel bright, 
Whose tiery steeds ill brook'd the stay 
Of the steep street and crowded way. 
But in the train you might discern 
Dark lowering brow and visage stern; 
There nobles mourn'd their pride restrained, 
And the mean burghers' joys disdain'd ; 
And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan, 
Were each from home a banish'd man. 
There thought upon their own gray tower, 
Their waving woods, their feudal power, 
And deem'd themselves a shameful part 
Of pageant which they cursed in heart. 

XXII. 

Now, in the Castle-park, drew out 
Their chequer'd bands and joyous rout. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 89 

There morricers, with bell at heel 
And blade in hand, their mazes wheel ; 
But chief, beside the butts, there stand 
Bold Robin Hood and all his band, — 
Friar Tuck, with quarters tafF and cowl, 
Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl. 
Maid Marian, fair as ivory bone. 
Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John ; 
Their bugles challenge all that will, 
In archery to prove their skill. 
The Douglas bent a bow of might, — 
His first shaft centred in the white. 
And when in turn he shot again. 
His second split the first in twajj. 
From the King's hand must Douglas take 
A Silver dart, the archer's stake ; 
Fondly he watch'd, with watery eye, 
Some answering glance of sympathy, - 
No kind emotion made reply ! 
Indifferent as to archer wight, 
The monarch gave the arrow bright. 



XXIII. 

Now, clear the ring ! for hand to hand, 
The manly wrestlers take their stand. 
Two o'er the rest superior rose. 
And proud demanded mightier foes, — r 



1 90 THE COMBAT. 

Nor caird in vain, for Douglas came. — 
For life is Hugh of Larbert lame ; 
Scarce better John of Alloa's fare, 
Whom senseless home his comrades bear. 
Prize of the wrestling match, the King 
To Douglas gave a golden ring, 
While coldly glanced his eye of blue, 
As frozen drop of wintry dew.- 
Douglas would speak, but in his breast 
His struggling soul his words suppressed ; 
Indignant then he turn'd him where 
Their arms the brawny yeomen bare, 
To hurl the massive bar in air. 
When each his utmost strength had shown, 
The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone 
From its deep bed, then heaved it high. 
And sent the fragment through the sky 
A rood beyond the farthest mark ; — 
And still in Stirling's royal park, 
The gray-hair'd sires, who know the past, 
To strangers point the Douglas-cast, 
And moralize on the decay 
Of Scottish strength in modern day. 

XXIV. 

The vale with loud applauses rang. 
The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang. 
The King, with look unmoved, bestowM 
A purse well fill'd with pieces broad. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. I9I 

Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, 
And threw the gold among the crowd, 
Who now with anxious wonder scan, 
And sharper glance, the dark gray man ; 
Till whispers rose among the throng, 
That heart so free and hand so strong 
Must to the Douglas blood belong. 
The old man mark'd and shook the head, 
To see his hair with silver spread. 
And wink'd aside, and told each son 
Of feats upon the English done, 
Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand 
Was exiled from his native land. 
The women praised his stately form, 
Though wreck'd by many a winter's storm ; 
The youth with awe and wonder saw 
His strength surpassing 'Nature's law. 
Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd. 
Till murmurs rose to clamors loud. 
But not a glance from that proud ring 
Of peers who circled round the King, 
With Douglas held communion kind, 
Or caird the banish'd man to mind ; 
No, not from those who at the chase 
Once held his side the honor'd place, 
Begirt his board, and in the field 
Found safety underneath his shield ; 
For he whom royal eyes disown, 
When was his form to courtiers known ! 



192 THE COMBAT. 

XXV. 

The Monarch saw the gambols flag, 
And bade let loose a gallant stag, 
Whose pride, the holiday to crown. 
Two favorite greyhounds should pull down, 
That venison free and Bourdeaux wine 
Might serve the archery to dine. 
But Lufra, — whom from Douglas' side 
Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide. 
The fleetest hound in all the North, — 
Brave Lufra saw and darted forth. 
She left the royal hounds midway. 
And dashing on the antler'd prey. 
Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank. 
And deep the flowing life-blood drank. 
The King's stout huntsman saw the sport 
By strange intruder broken short, 
Came up, and with his leash unbound. 
In anger struck the noble hound. 
The Douglas had endured, that morn. 
The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn, 
And last, and worst to spirit proud, 
Had borne the pity of the crowd ; 
But Lufra had been fondly bred 
To share his board, to watch his bed, 
And oft would Ellen Lufra's neck 
In maiden glee with garlands deck ; 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 93 

They were such playmates, that, with name 
Of Lufra, Ellen's image came. 
His stifled wrath is brimming high 
In darkened brow and flashing eye ; 
As waves before the bark divide, 
The crowd gave way before his stride ; 
Needs but a buftet, and no more : 
The groom lies senseless in his gore. 
Such blow no other hand could deal, 
Though gauntleted in glove of steel. 



XXVI. 

Then clamor'd loud the royal train, 

And brandishM swords and staves amain ; 

But stern the Baron's warning : " Back ! 

Back, on your lives, ye menial pack ! 

Beware the Douglas. — Yes ! behold. 

King James ! the Douglas, doomed of old, 

And vainly sought for near and far, 

A victim to atone the war, 

A willing victim, now attends. 

Nor craves thy grace but for his friends." 

" Thus is my clemency repaid? 

Presumptuous Lord ! " the Monarch said : 

" Of thy misproud ambitious clan, 

Thou, James of Both well, wert the man, 

The only man, in whom a foe 

My woman-mercy would not know ; 



194 THE COMBAT. 

But shall a Monarch's presence brook 
Injurious blow and haughty look? — 
What ho ! the Captain of our Guard ! 
Give the offender fitting ward. — 
Break off the sports ! " — for tumult rose, 
And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows, — 
*' Break off the sports ! " he said, and frown'd, 
*' And bid our horsemen clear the ground." 



XXVII. 

Then uproar wild and misarray 
Marr'd the fair form of festal day 
The horsemen prickM among the crowd, 
Repeird by threats and insult loud ; 
To earth are borne the old and weak, 
The timorous fly, the women shriek ; 
With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar, 
The hardier urge tumultuous war 
At once round Douglas darkly sweep 
The royal spears in circle deep, 
And slowly scale the pathway steep, 
While on the rear in thunder pour 
The rabble with disordered roar. 
With grief the noble Douglas saw 
The Commons rise against the law, 
And to the leading soldier said : 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 95 

" Sir John of Hyndford, 'twas my blade 
That knighthood on thy shoulder laid 
For that good deed permit me then 
A word with these misguided men. 



XXVIII. 

" Hear, gentle friends, ere yet for me 

Ye break the bands of fealty. 

My life, my honor, and my cause, 

I tender free to Scotland's laws. 

Are these so weak as must require 

The aid of your misguided ire ? 

Or if I suflfer causeless wrong, 

Is then my selfish rage so strong, 

My sense of public weal so low, 

That, for mean vengeance on a foe. 

Those cords of love I should unbind 

Which knit my country and my kind ? 

O, no ! Believe, in yonder tower 

It will not soothe my captiVe hour. 

To know those spears our foes should dread 

For me in kindred gore are red : 

To know, in fruitless brawl begun 

For me that mother wails her son, 

For me that widow's mate expires. 

For me that orphans weep their sires, 



196 THE COMBAT. 

That patriots mourn insulted laws, 
And curse the Douglas for the cause. 
O, let your patience ward such ill, 
And keep your right to love me still ! " 



The crowd^s wild fury sunk again 

In tears, as tempests melt in rain. 

With lifted hands and eyes, they pray'd 

For blessings on his generous head 

Who for his country felt alone, 

And prized her blood beyond his own. 

Old men upon the verge of life 

Bless'd him who stayYl the civil strife ; 

And mothers held their babes on high, 

The self-devoted Chief to spy. 

Triumphant over wrongs and ire, 

To whom the prattlers owed a sire. 

Even the rough soldier's heart was moved ; 

As if behind some bier beloved. 

With trailing arms and drooping head. 

The Douglas up the hill he led. 

And at the Castle's battled verge, 

With sighs resigned his honor'd charge. 

XXX. 

The offended Monarch rode apart 
With bitter thought and swelling heart, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 1 9/ 

And would not now vouchsafe again 
Through Stirling streets to lead his train. 
" O Lennox, who would wish to rule 
This changeling crowd, this common fool? 
Hear'st thou," he said, " the loud acclaim 
With which they shout the Douglas name? 
With like acclaim the vulgar throat 
Strained for King James their morning note ; 
With like acclaim they haiPd the day 
When first I broke the Douglas' sway ; 
And like acclaim would Douglas greet 
If he could hurl me from my seat. 
Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, 
Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain? 
Vain as the leaf upon the stream, 
And fickle as a changeful dream ; 
Fantastic as a woman's mood. 
And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood 
Thou many-headed monster-thing, 
O, who would wish to be thy king? 

XXXI. 

'* But soft ! What messenger of speed 

Spurs hitherward his panting steed? 

I guess his cognizance afar ; 

What from our cousin, John of Mar? " ^ — 

" He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound 

Within the safe and guarded ground ; 



198 THE COMBAT. 

For some foul purpose yet unknown, — 
Most sure for evil to the throne, — 
The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 
Has summoned his rebellious crew ; 
'Tis said, in James of BothwelPs aid 
These loose banditti stand array'd. 
The Earl of Mar this morn from Doune 
To break their muster march'd, and soon 
Your Grace will hear of battle fought ; 
But earnestly the Earl besought. 
Till for such danger he provide. 
With scanty train you will not ride." 

XXXII. 

" Thou warn''st me I have done amiss, — 
I should have earlier look'd to this ; 
I lost it in this bustling day. 
Retrace with speed thy former way ; 
Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, 
The best of mine shall be thy meed. 
Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, 
We do forbid the intended war ; 
Roderick this morn, in single fight, 
Was made our prisoner by a knight ; 
And Douglas hath himself and cause 
Submitted to our kingdom's laws. 
The tidings of their leaders lost 
Will soon dissolve the mountain host. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



Nor would we that the vulgar feel, 
For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel. 
Bear I\Iar our message, Braco, fly ! " 
He turn'd his steed, — " My liege, I hie ; 
Yet ere I cross this lily lawn 
I fear the broadswords will be drawn." 
The turf the flying courser spurn'd, 
And to his towers the king returned. 



XXXIII. 

Ill with King James's mood that day 
Suited gay feast and minstrel lay ; 
Soon were dismiss'd the courtly throng. 
And soon cut sho-rt the festal song. 
Nor less upon the sadden'd town 
The evening sunk in sorrow down. 
The burghers spoke of civil jar. 
Of rumord feuds and mountain war, 
Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, 
All -up in arms ; — the Douglas too. 
They mourn'd him pent within the hold, 
" Where stout Earl William was of old."- 
And there his word the speaker staid, 
And finger on his lip he laid. 
Or pointed to his dagger blade. 
But jaded horsemen from the west 
At evening to the Castle pressed. 



200 THE COMBAT. 

And busy talkers said they bore 

Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore ; 

At noon the deadly fray begun, 

And lasted till the set of sun. 

Thus giddy rumor shook the town, 

Till closed the Night her pennons brown. 



CANTO THE SIXTH. 



CANTO THE SIXTH. 



THE GUARD-ROOM. 



The sun, awakening, through the smoky air 

Of the dark city casts a sullen glance. 
Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, 

Of sinful man the sad inheritance ; 

Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, 
Scaring the prowling robber to his den ; 

Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance. 
And warning student pale to leave his pen 
And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of 
men. 

What various scenes, and O, what scenes of woe. 
Are witness'd by that red and struggling 
beam ! 
The fever'd patient, from his pallet low, 

Through crowded hospital beholds its stream ; 
The ruin"d maiden trembles at its gleam, 
203 



204 THE GUARD-ROOM. 

The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail, 
The love-lorn wretch starts from tormentinsf 

dream ; 
The wakeful mother, by the ghmmering pale. 
Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his 

feeble wail. 



II. 



At dawn the towers of Stirling rang 
With soldier-step and weapon-clang, 
While drums with rolling note foretell 
Relief to weary sentinel. 
Through narrow loop and casement barr'd. 
The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, 
And, struggling with the smoky air, 
Deaden'd the torches' yellow glare. 
In comfortless alliance shone 
The lights through arch of blacken'd stone, 
And showed wild shapes in garb of war. 
Faces deform'd with beard and scar, 
All haggard from the midnight watch, 
And fever'd with the stern debauch ; 
For the oak table's massive board. 
Flooded with wine, with fragments stored, 
And beakers drained, and cups overthrown 
Show'd in what sport the night had flown. 
Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ; 
Some labor'd still their thirst to quench ; 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 20$ 

Some, chiird with watching, spread their hands 
O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, 
While round them or beside them flung, 
At every step their harness rung. 



These drew not for their fields the sword, 

Like tenants of a feudal lord, 

Nor ownM the patriarchal claim 

Of Chieftain in their leader's name ; 

Adventurers they, from far who roved, 

To live by battle which they loved. 

There the Italian's clouded face. 

The swarthy Spaniard's there you traced ; 

The mountain-loving Switzer there 

More freely breathed in mountain-air ; 

The Fleming there despised the soil 

That paid so ill the laborer's toil ; 

Their rolls show'd French and German name; 

And merry England's exiles came. 

To share, with ill-conceal'd disdain, 

Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. 

All brave in arms, well train'd to wield 

The heavy halberd, brand, and shield; 

In camps licentious, wild, and bold ; 

In pillage fierce and uncontroll'd ; 

And now, by holytide and feast. 

From rules of discipline released. 



206 THE GUARD-ROOM. 



They held debate of bloody fray, 

Fought 'twixt Loch Katrine and Achray. 

Fierce was their speech, and mid their words 

Their hands oft grappled to their swords ; 

Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear 

Of wounded comrades groaning near. 

Whose mangled limbs and bodies gored 

Bore token of the mountain sword. 

Though, neighboring to the Court of Guard, 

Their prayers and feverish wails were heard, — 

Sad burden to the ruffian joke, 

And savage oath by fury spoke ! — 

At length up started John of Brent, 

A yeoman from the banks of Trent, 

A stranger to respect or fear. 

In peace a chaser of the deer. 

In host a hardy mutineer, 

But still the boldest of the crew 

When deed of danger was to do. 

He grieved that day their games cut short. 

And marr'd the dicer's brawling sport. 

And shouted loud, " Renew the bowl! 

And, while a merry catch I troll. 

Let each the buxom chorus bear, 

Like brethren of the brand and spear." 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 207 
V. 

soldier's song. 

Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule 
Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown 

bowl ; 
That there 's wrath and despair in the jolly black- 
jack, 
And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack ; 
Yet whoop, Barnaby ! off with thy liquor. 
Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar! 

Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip 
The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip. 
Says that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly. 
And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black 

eye ; 
Yet whoop, Jack ! kiss Gillian the quicker, 
Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the 

vicar ! 

Our vicar thus preaches, — and why should he 

not? 
For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot ; 
And 't is right of his office poor laymen to lurch 
Who infringe the domains of our good Mother 

Church. 
Yet whoop, bully-boys ! off with your liquor. 
Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the 

vicar ! 



208 THE GUARD-ROOM. 



VI. 



The warder's challenge, heard without, 

Stay'd in mid-roar the merry shout. 

A soldier to the portal went, — 

" Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent; 

And — beat for jubilee the drum ! — 

A maid and minstrel with him come." 

Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarrM, 

Was entering now the Court of Guard, 

A harper with him, and, in plaid 

All muffled close, a mountain maid, 

Who backward shrunk to 'scape the view 

Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. 

" What news? '' they roar'd. — "I only know, 

From noon till eve we fought with foe, 

As wild and as untamable 

As the rude mountains where they dwell ; 

On both sides store of blood is lost. 

Nor much success can either boast." — 

" But whence thy captives, friend.? such spoil 

As theirs must needs reward thy toil. 

Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp ; 

Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp ! 

Get thee an ape, and trudge the land, 

The leader of a juggler band ! " — 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 209 
VII. 

** No, comrade ; — no such fortune mine. 

After the fight these sought our line, 

That aged harper and the girl, 

And, having audience of the Earl, 

Mar bade I should purvey them steed, 

And bring them hitherward with speed. 

Forbear your mirth and rude alarm. 

For none shall do them shame or harm." — 

" Hear ye his boast? " cried John of Brent, 

Ever to strife and jangling bent ; 

" Shall he strike doe beside our lodge, 

And yet the jealous niggard grudge 

To pay the forester his fee? 

I '11 have my share howe'er it be, 

Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee ! " 

Bertram his forward step withstood ; 

And, burning in his vengeful mood, 

Old Allan, though unfit for strife. 

Laid hand upon his dagger-knife ; 

But Ellen boldly stepped between. 

And dropp'd at once the tartan screen : — 

So, from his morning cloud, appears 

The sun of May through summer tears. 

The savage soldiery, amazed. 

As on descended angel gazed ; 

Even hardy Brent, abash'd and tamed. 

Stood half admiring, half ashamed. 



2IO THE GUARD-ROOM. 

VIII. 

Boldly she spoke : " Soldiers, attend ! 
My father was the soldier's friend, 
Cheer'd him in camps, in marches led, 
And with him in the battle bled. 
Not from the valiant or the strong 
Should exile's daughter suffer wrong." — 
Answer'd De Brent, most forward still 
In every feat or good or ill : 
*' I shame me of the part I play'd ; 
And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid ! 
An outlaw I by forest laws, 
And merry Needwood knows the cause. 
Poor Rose, — if Rose be living now," — 
He wiped his iron eye and brow, — 
" Must bear such age, I think, as thou. - 
Hear ye, my mates ! I go to call 
The Captain of our watch to hall : 
There lies my halberd on the floor ; 
And he that steps my halberd o'er 
To do the maid injurious part, 
My shaft shall quiver in his heart ! 
Beware loose speech, or jesting rough ; 
Ye all know John de Brent. Enough." 

IX. 

Their Captain came, a gallant young, — 
Of Tullibardine's house he sprung, — 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 211 

Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight; 

Gay was his mien, his humor light. 

And, though by courtesy controll'd, 

Forward his speech, his bearing bold. 

The high-born maiden ill could brook 

The scanning of his curious look 

And dauntless eye : — and yet, in sooth, 

Young Lewis was a generous youth ; 

But Ellen's lovely face and mien, 

111 suited to the garb and scene, 

Might lightly bear construction strange, 

And give loose fancy scope to range. 

" Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid ! 

Come ye to seek a champion^s aid, 

On palfrey white, with harper hoar. 

Like errant damosel of yore? 

Does thy high quest a knight require. 

Or may the venture suit a squire?" 

Her dark eye flash'd ; — she paused and sigh'd : 

" O, what have I to do with pride I — 

Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife, 

A suppliant for a father's life, 

I crave an audience of the King. 

Behold, to back my suit, a ring. 

The royal pledge of grateful claims, 

Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James." 



212 THE GUARD-ROOM. 

X. 

The signet-ring young Lewis took 

With deep respect and altered look, 

And said : ' ' This ring our duties own ; 

And pardon, if to worth unknown, 

In semblance mean obscurely veiPd, 

Lady, in aught my folly faiPd. 

Soon as the day flings wide his gates. 

The King shall know what suitor waits. 

Please you meanwhile in fitting bower 

Repose you till his waking hour ; 

Female attendance shall obey 

Your best, for service or array ; 

Permit I marshall you the way." 

But, ere she follow'd, with the grace 

And open bounty of her race, 

She bade her slender purse be shared 

Among the soldiers of the guard. 

The rest with thanks their guerdon took 

But Brent, with shy and awkward look, 

On the reluctant maiden's hold 

Forced bluntly back the proffer d gold : - 

" Forgive a haughty English heart, 

And O, forget its ruder part ! 

The vacant purse shall be my share, 

Which in my barret-cap 1*11 bear, 

Perchance, in jeopardy of war, 

Where gayer crests may keep afar." 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 21 3 

With thanks — 't was all she could — the maid 
His rugged courtesy repaid. 

XI. 

When Ellen forth with Lewis went, 
Allan made suit to John of Brent : — 
" My lady safe, O, let your grace 
Give me to see my master's face ! 
His minstrel I, — to share his doom 
Bound from the cradle to the tomb. 
Tenth in descent, since first my sires 
Waked for his noble house their lyres. 
Nor one of all the race was known 
But prized its weal above their own. 
With the Chiefs birth begins our care ; 
Our harp must soothe the infant heir, 
Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace 
His earliest feat of field or chase ; 
In peace, in war, our rank we keep. 
We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep, 
Nor leave him till we pour our verse — 
A doleful tribute ! — o'er his hearse. 
Then let me share his captive lot ; 
It is my right, — deny it not ! " — 
''Little we reck," said John of Brent, 
*♦ We Southern men of long descent. 
Nor wot we how a name, a word. 
Makes clansmen vassals to a lord : 



214 ^-^^^ GUARD-ROOM. 

Yet kind my noble landlord's part, — 
God bless the house of Beaudesert ! 
And, but I loved to drive the deer 
More than to guide the laboring steer, 
I had not dwelt an outcast here. 
Come, good old Minstrel, follow me ; 
Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see." 



XII. 



Then from a rusted iron hook 

A bunch of ponderous keys he took. 

Lighted a torch, and Allan led 

Through grated arch and passage dread. 

Portals they pass'd, w^here, deep wdthin. 

Spoke prisoner's moan and fetters' din ; 

Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored. 

Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword. 

And many a hideous engine grim. 

For wrenching joint and crushing limb, 

By artists form'd who deem'd it shame 

And sin to give their work a name. 

They halted at a low-brow'd porch, 

And Brent to Allan gave the torch, 

While bolt and chain he backward rolPd, 

And made the bar unhasp its hold. 

They entered : — 't was a prison-room, 

Of stern security and gloom. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 21 5 

Yet not a dungeon ; for the day 

Through lofty gratings found its way, 

And rude and antique garniture 

Decked the sad walls and oaken floor ; 

Such as the rugged days of old 

Deem'd fit for captive noble's hold. 

"Here," said De Brent, "thou mayst remain 

Till the Leech visit him again. 

Strict is his charge, the warders tell, 

To tend the noble prisoner well.'' 

Retiring then the bolt he drew, 

And the lock's murmurs growPd anew. 

Roused at the sound, from lowly bed 

A captive feebly raised his head : 

The wondering Minstrel look'd, and knew — 

Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu ! 

For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, 

They, erring, deem'd the Chief he sought. 

XIII. 

As the tall ship, whose lofty prore 
Shall never stem the billows more, 
Deserted by her gallant band 
Amid the breakers lies astrand, — 
So on his couch lay Roderick Dhu ; 
And oft his fever'd limbs he threw 
In toss abrupt, — as when her sides 
Lie rocking in the advancing tides, 



2l6 THE GUARD-ROOM. 

That shake her frame with ceaseless beat. 

Yet cannot heave her from her seat ; — 

O, how unlike her course at sea. 

Or his free step on hill and lea ! — 

Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, — 

' * What of thy lady ? — of my clan ? — 

My mother? — Douglas ? — tell me all ! 

Have they been ruin'd in my fall ? 

Ah. yes! or wherefore art thou here? 

Yet speak, — speak boldly, — do not fear." — 

For Allan, who his mood well knew% 

Was choked w ith grief and terror too. — 

"Who fought? — who fled? — Old man, be brief; 

Some might, for they had lost their Chief. 

Who basely live? — who bravely died?" — 

'* O, calm thee. Chief!" the Minstrel cried, 

" Ellen is safe !" — "For that, thank Heaven l" 

" And hopes are for the Douglas given ; 

The Lady Margaret, too, is well ; 

And, for thy Clan. — on field or fell 

Has never harp of minstrel told 

Of combat fought so true and bold. 

Thy stately pine is yet unbent, 

Though many a goodly bough is rent." 

The Chieftain rear'd his form on high, 
And fever's fire was in his eye ; 



TIIK LADY OF IJIK LAKE. 21/ 

But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks 

Chequerd his swarthy brow and cheeks. — 

" Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee play, 

With measure bold, on festal day. 

In yon lone isle, — again where ne'er 

Shall harper play or warrior hear ! — 

That stirring air that jDeals on high 

O'er Dermid's race our victory, — 

Strike it! — and then, — for well thou canst, — 

Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced, 

Fling me the picture of the fight. 

When met my clan the Saxon might. 

I'll listen, till my fancy hears 

The clang of swords, the crash of spears ! 

These grates, these walls, shall vanish then 

For the fair field of fighting men, 

And my free spirit burst away, 

As if it soar'd from battle fray." 

The trembling Bard with awe obey'd, — 

Slow on the harp his hand he laid ; 

But soon remembrance of the sight 

He witness'd from the mountain's height, 

With what old Bertram told at night, 

Awaken'd the full power of song. 

And bore him in career along ; — 

As shallop launch'd on river's tide. 

That slow and fearful leaves the side, 

But, when it feels the middle stream, 

Drives downward swift as lightnings beam. 



21 8 THE GUARD-ROOM. 

♦XV. 
BATTLE OF BE.AX' AN DUIXE. 

'• The Minstrel came once more to view 
The eastern ridge of Benvenue, 
For, ere he parted, he would say. 
Farewell to lovely Loch Achray, — 
Where shall he find in foreign land, 
So lone a lake, so sweet a strand I — 
There is no breeze upon the fern, 

No ripple on the lake, 
Upon her eyry nods the erne, 

The deer has sought the brake ; 
The small birds will not sing aloud. 

The springing trout lies still. 
So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud. 
That swathes as with a purple shroud 

Benledi's distant hill. 
Is it the thunder's solemn sound 
That mutters deep and dread. 
Or echoes from the groaning ground 

The warrior's measured tread? 
Is it the lightning's quivering glance 

That on the thicket streams. 
Or do they flash on spear and lance. 
The sun's retiring beams ? — 
I see the dagger-crest of Mar, 
1 see the Moray's silver star. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 219 

Wave o'er tli^ cloud of Saxon war 
That up the lake comes winding far ! 
To hero boune for battle-strife, 

Or bard of martial lay, 
'T were worth ten years of peaceful life, 
One glance at their array ! 



XVI. 

" Their light-arm'd archers far and near 

Surveyed the tangled ground. 
Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, 

A twilight forest frown'd. 
Their barded horsemen in the rear 

The stern battalia crown'd. 
No cymbal clash'd. no clarion rang. 

Still were the pipe and drum ; 
Save heavy tread, and armor's clang, 

The sullen march was dumb. 
There breathed no wind their crests to shake. 

Or wave their flags abroad ; 
Scarce the frail aspen seem'd to quake, 

That shadow'd o'er their road. 
Their vaward scouts no tidings bring, 

Can rouse no lurking foe. 
Nor spy a trace of living thing, 

Save when they stirr'd the roe ; 
The host moves like a deep-sea wave. 
Where rise no rocks its pride to brave, 



220 THE GUARD-ROOM. 

High-swelling, dark, and slcnv. 
The lake is passed, and now they gain 
A narrow and a broken plain. 
Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws ; 
And here the horse and spearmen pause. 
While, to explore the dangerous glen. 
Dive through the pass the archer-men. 

XVII. 

" At once there rose so wild a yell 
Within that dark and narrow dell. 
As all the fiends from heaven that fell 
Had peaPd the banner-cry of hell ! 
Forth from the pass in tumult driven. 
Like chaff before the wind of heaven. 

The archery appear : 
For life ! for life ! their flight they ply — 
And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry. 
And plaids and bonnets waving high, 
And broadswords flashing to the sky. 

Are maddening in the rear. 
Onward they drive in dreadful race, 

Pursuers and pursued ; 
Before that tide of flight and chase, 
How shall it keep its rooted place. 

The spearmen's twilight wood? — 
"Down, down," cried Mar, "your lances 
down ! 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 221 

Bear back both friend and foe ! '' — 
Like reeds before the temp«it's frown, 
That serried grove of lances brown 

At once lay levell'd low ; 
And closely shouldering side to side, 
The bristling ranks the onset bide. — 
" We'll quell the savage mountaineer. 

As their Tinchel cows the game ! 
They come as fleet as forest deer, 

We'll drive them back as tame." 

XVIII. 

" Bearing before them in their course 
The reliques of the archer force. 
Like wave with crest of sparkling foam, 
Right onward did Clan- Alpine come. 
Above the tide each broadsword bright 
Was brandishing like beam of light, 

Each targe was dark below ; 
And with the ocean's mighty swing. 
When heaving to the tempest's wing. 
They hurl'd them on the foe. 
I heard the lance's shivering crash, 
As when the whirlwind rends the ash ; 
I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, 
As if an hundred anvils rang ! 
But Moray wheel'd his rearward rank 
Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine:s flank, — 



222 THE GUARD-ROOM. 

" My banner-man, advance ! 

I see," he aried, " their column shake ! 

Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake. 

Upon them with the lance ! " — 
The horsemen dash'd among the rout, 

As deer break through the broom ; 
Their steeds are stout, their swords are out, 

They soon make lightsome room. 
Clan-Alpine's best are backward borne — 

Where, where was Roderick then ! 
One blast upon his bugle-horn 

Were worth a thousand men ! 
And refluent through the pass of fear 

The battle's tide was pour'd ; 
Vanish'd the Saxon's struggling spear, 

Vanish'd the mountain-sword. 
As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep, 

Receives her roaring linn, 
As the dark caverns of the deep 

Suck the wild whirlpool in, — 
So did the deep and darksome pass 
Devour the battle's mingled mass ; 
None linger now upon the plain, 
Save those who ne'er shall fight again. 



XIX. 

'• Now westward rolls the battle's din. 
That deep and doubling pass within. — 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 223 

Minstrel, away ! the work of fate 
Is bearing on ; its issue wait, 
Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile 
Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. — 
Gray Benvenue I soon repass'd, 
Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. 
The sun is set ; — the clouds are met. 

The lowering scowl of heaven 
An inky hue of livid blue 
To the deep lake has given ; 
Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen 
Swept o'er the lake, then sunk agen. 
I heeded not the eddying surge. 
Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, 
Mine ear but heard that sullen sound. 
Which like an earthquake shook the ground, 
And spoke the stern and desperate strife 
That parts not but with parting life. 
Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll 
The dirge of many a passing soul. 
Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen 
The martial flood disgorged agen. 

But not in mingled tide ; 
The plaided warriors of the North 
High on the mountain thunder forth 
And overhang its side ; 
While by the lake below appears 
The darkening cloud of Saxon spears. 



•24 THE GUARD-ROOM. 

At weary bay each shatter'd band. 
Eyeing their foemen, sternly stand ; 
Their banners stream Hke tatter"d sail 
That flings its fragments to the gale, 
And broken arms and disarray 
Mark'd the fell havoc of the dav. 



XX. 



*' Viewing the mountain's ridge askance. 
The Saxons stood in sullen trance, 
Till Moray pointed with his lance, 

And cried : " Behold yon isle ! — 
See ! none are left to guard its strand 
But women weak, that wring the hand : 
'T is there of yore the robber band 

Their booty wont to pile : — 
My purse, with bonnet-pieces store. 
To him will swim a bow-shot o'er. 
And loose a shallop from the shore. 
Lightly we '11 tame the war-wolf then. 
Lords of his mate, and brood, and den." 
Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung. 
On earth his casque and corselet rung. 

He plunged him in the wave : — 
All saw the deed, — the purpose knew. 
And to their clamors Benvenue 

A mingled echo gave ; 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 225 

The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, 
The helpless females scream for fear, 
And yells for rage the mountaineer. 
'T was then, as by the outcry riven, 
Pour'd down at once the lowering heaven : 
A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast, 
Her billows rear'd their snowy crest. 
Well for the swimmer sw^eird they high, 
To mar the Highland marksman's eye ; 
For round him shower'd, mid rain and hail. 
The vengeful arrows of the Gael. 
In vain. — He nears the isle — and lo ! 
His hand is on a shallop's bow. 
Just then a flash of lightning came. 
It tinged the waves and strand with flame ; 
I mark'd Duncraggan's widow'd dame. 
Behind an oak I saw her stand, 
A naked dirk gleam'd in her hand : — 
It darken'd, — but amid the moan 
Of waves I heard a dying groan ; — 
Another flash ! — the spearman floats 
A weltering corpse beside the boats. 
And the stern matron o"er him stood. 
Her hand and dagger streaming blood. 



XXI. 

'* * Revenge ! Revenge I ' the Saxons cried, 
The Gaels' exulting shout replied. 



226 THE GUARD-ROOM. 

Despite the elemental rage, 
Again they hurried to engage ; 
But, ere they closed in desperate fight. 
Bloody with spurring came a knight, 
Sprung from his horse, and from a crag 
Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. 
Clarion and trumpet by his side 
Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, 
While, in the Monarch's name afar, 
An herald's voice forbade the war, 
■ For BothwelPs lord and Roderick bold 
Were both, he said, in captive hold." — 

But here the lay made sudden stand, 

The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand ; 

Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 

How Roderick brook'd his minstrelsy : 

At first the Chieftain, to the chime, 

With lifted hand kept feeble time ; 

That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong 

Varied his look as changed the song ; 

At length, no more his deafen'd ear 

The minstrel melody can hear ; 

His face grows sharp, — his hands are clench'd, 

As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched ; 

Set are his teeth, his fading eye 

Is sternly fix'd on vacancy ; 

Thus, motionless and moanless, drew 

His parting breath stout Roderick Dhu ! — 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 22/ 

Old Allan-Bane look'd on aghast, 
While grim and still his spirit pass'd ; 
But when he saw that life was fled, 
He pour'd his wailing o'er the dead. 



XXII. 



'* And art thou cold and lowly laid. 
Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, 
Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade ! 
For thee shall none a requiem say? — 
For thee, who loved the minstrel's lay, 
For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, 
The shelter of her exiled line. 
E'en in this prison-house of thine, 
ril wail for Alpine's honor'd Pine. 

" What groans shall yonder valleys fill ! 
What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill ! 
What tears of burning rage shall thrill, 
When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, 
Thy fall before the race was won, 
Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! 
There breathes not clansman of thy line 
But would have given his life for thine. 
O, woe for Alpine's honor'd Pine ! 



228 THE GUARD-ROOM. 

" Sad was thy lot on mortal stage! — 
The captive thrush may brook the cage, 
The prison'd eagle dies for rage. 
Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain ! 
And. when its notes awake again, 
Even she, so long beloved in vain. 
Shall with my harp her voice combine, 
And mix her woe and tears with mine, 
To wail Clan-Alpine's honor'd Pine." 



XXIII. 

Ellen, the while, with bursting heart, 

Remain'd in lordly bower apart, 

Where play'd, with many-color'd gleams. 

Through storied pane the rising beams. 

In vain on gilded roof they fall, 

And lighten'd up a tapestried wall. 

And for her use a menial train 

A rich collation spread in vain. 

The banquet proud, the chamber gay. 

Scarce drew one curious glance astray ; 

Or if she look'd, 't was but to say. 

With better omen dawn'd the day 

In that lone isle, where waved on high 

The dun-deer's hide for canopy ; 

Where oft her noble father shared 

The simple meal her care prepared. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 229 

While Lufra, crouching by her side, 

Her station claim'd with jealous pride, 

And Douglas, bent on woodland game, 

Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme, 

Whose answer, oft at random made, 

The wandering of his thoughts betray'd.— 

Those who such simple joys have known 

Are taught to prize them when they're gone. 

But sudden, see, she lifts her head, 

The window seeks with cautious tread. 

What distant music has the power 

To win her in this woeful hour? 

'T was from a turret that overhung 

Her latticed bower, the strain was sung. 



XXIV. 



LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN. 

" My hawk is tired of perch and hood, 
My idle greyhound loathes his food, 
My horse is weary of his stall. 
And I am sick of captive thrall. 
I wish I were as I have been. 
Hunting the hart in forest green. 
With bended bow and bloodhound free, 
For that's the life is meet for me. 



230 THE GUARD-ROOM. 

' ' I hate to learn the ebb of time 
From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime. 
Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 
Inch after inch, along the wall. 
The lark was wont my matins ring. 
The sable rook my vespers sing ; 
These towers, although a king's they be. 
Have not a hall of joy for me. 

" No more at dawning morn I rise, 
And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, 
Drive the fleet deer the forest through,. 
And homeward wend with evening dew ; 
A blithesome welcome blithely meet, * 
And lay my trophies at her feet, 
While fled the eve on wing of glee, — 
That life is lost to love and me ! " 



XXV. 

The heart-sick lay was hardly said, 

The listener had not turn'd her head, 

It trickled still, the starting tear. 

When light a footstep struck her ear. 

And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was near. 

She turn'd the hastier, lest again 

The prisoner should renew his strain. 

" O, welcome, brave Fitz-James ! " she said 

" How may an almost orphan maid 



•" THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 23 1 

Pay the deep debt " — " O, say not so ! 

To me no gratitude you owe. 

Not mine, alas ! the boon to give, 

And bid thy noble father live ; 

I can but be thy guide, sweet maid, 

With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. 

No tyrant he, though ire and pride 

May lay his better mood aside. 

Come, Ellen, come ! 't is more than time ; 

He holds his court at morning prime." 

With beating heart, and bosom wrung, 

As to a brother's arm she clung. 

Gently he dried the falling tear, 

And gently whisper'd hope and cheer ; 

Her faltering steps half led, half staid. 

Through gallery fair and high arcade, 

Till at his touch its wings of pride 

A portal arch unfolded wide. 



XXVI. 

Within 't was brilliant all and light, 
A thronging scene of figures bright : 
It glow'd on Ellen's dazzled sight. 
As when the setting sun has given 
Ten thousand hues to summer even. 
And from their tissue Fancy frames 
Aerial knights and fairy dames. 



232 THE GUARD-ROOM. * 

Still by Fitz-James her footing staid ; 
A few faint steps she forward made, 
Then slow her drooping head she raised, 
And fearful round the presence gazed ; 
For him she sought, who own'd this state. 
The dreaded Prince whose will was fate ! — 
She gazed on many a princely port 
Might well have ruled a royal court ; 
On many a splendid garb she gazed, — 
Then turn'd bewildered and amazed, — 
For all stood bare ; and in the room 
Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. 
To him each lady's look was lent. 
On him each courtier's eye was bent ; 
Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen, 
He stood, in simple Lincoln green. 
The centre of the glittering ring, — 
And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King ! 



As wreath of snow on mountain breast 

Slides from the rock that gave it rest, 

Poor Ellen glided from her stay, 

And at the Monarch's feet she lay ; 

No word her choking voice commands, — 

She show'd the ring, — she clasp'd her hands. 

O, not a moment could he brook, 

The generous Prince, that suppliant look ! 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 233 

Gently he raised her, — and, the while, 

Check'd with a glance the circle's smile ; 

Graceful, but grave, her brow he kiss'd, 

And bade her terrors be dismissed : — 

" Yes, fair; the wandering poor Fitz-James 

The fealty of Scotland claims. 

To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring; 

He will redeem his signet ring. 

Ask naught for Douglas ; — yester even 

His Prince and he have much forgiven ; 

Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 

I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 

We would not, to the vulgar crowd. 

Yield what they craved with clamor loud ; 

Calmly we heard and judged his cause, 

Our council aided, and our laws. 

I stanchM thy father's death-feud stern 

With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn ; 

And Bothweirs Lord henceforth we own 

The friend and bulwark of our throne. — 

But, lovely intidel, how now? 

What clouds thy misbelieving brow? 

Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ; 

Thou must confirm this doubting maid." 

XXVIII. 

Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, 
And on his neck his daughter hung. 



234 THE GUARD-ROOM. 

The Monarch drank, that happy hour. 

The sweetest, holiest, draught of Power, — 

When it can say, with godlike voice. 

Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice ! 

Yet would not James the general eye 

On Nature's raptures long should pry ; 

He stepp'd between — '• Nay, Douglas, nay 

Steal not my proseh-te away ! 

The riddle "t is my right to read. 

That brought this happy chance to speed. 

Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray 

In life's more low but happier way, 

T" is under name which veils my power. 

Nor falsely veils, — for Stirling's tower 

Of \ore the name of Snowdoun claims. 

And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 

Thus watch I o'er insulted laws. 

Thus learn to right the injured cause." — 

Then, in a tone apart and low : 

" Ah, little traitress ! none must know 

\\Tiat idle dream, what lighter thought. 

What vanity full dearly bought, 

Join'd to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew 

My spell-bound steps to Benvenue 

In dangerous hour, and all but gave 

Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive ! " — 

Aloud he spoke : '• Thou still dost hold 

That little talisman of gold. 

Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring, — 

What seeks fair Ellen of the King? " 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 235 

XXIX. 

Full well the conscious maiden guess'd 

He probed the weakness of her breast ; 

But with that consciousness there came 

A lightening of her fears for Graeme, 

And more she deem'd the Monarch's ire 

Kindled 'gainst him who for her sire 

Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ; 

And, to her generous feeling true, 

She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. 

*' Forbear thy suit ; — the King of kings 

Alone can stay life's parting wings. 

I know his heart, I know his hand, 

Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand ; 

My fairest earldom would I give 

To bid Clan- Alpine's Chieftain live! — 

Hast thou no other boon to crave ? 

No other captive friend to save ? " 

Blushing, she turn'd her from the King, 

And to the Douglas gave the ring, 

As if she wish'd her sire to speak 

The suit that stain'd her glo<\-ing cheek. 

•' Nay, then my pledge has lost its force, 

And stubborn justice holds her course. 

Malcolm, come forth ! "" — and, at the word, 

Down kneel'd the Graeme to Scotland's Lord. 

" For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, 

From thee may Vengeance claim her dues, 



236 THE GUARD-ROOM. 

Who, nurtured underneath our smile. 
Hast paid our care by treacherous wile. 
And sought amid thy faithful clan 
A refuge for an outlawed man, 
Dishonoring thus thy loyal name. — 
Fetters and warder for the Graeme ! " 
His chain of gold the King unstrung. 
The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, 
Then gently drew the glittering band, 
And laid the clasp — on Ellen's hand. 



Harp of the North, farewell ! The hills grow 
dark, 
On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; 
In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, 
The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending. 
Resume thy wizarcf elm ! the fountain lending. 
And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy ; 
Thy numbers sweet with Nature's vespers 
blending. 
With distant echo from the fold and lea. 
And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of hous- 
ing bee. 

Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp! 

Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, 
And little wreck I of the censure sharp 

May idly cavil at an idle lay. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 237 

Much have I owed thy strains on life's long 
way, 
Through secret woes the world has never known, 
When on the weary night dawn'd wearier day, 
And bitterer was the grief devour'd alone, — 
That I o'erlive such woes. Enchantress! is thine 
own. 

Hark ! as my lingering footsteps slow retire. 

Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string ! 
'T is now a Seraph bold, with touch of fire, 

'T is now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. 

Receding now, the dying numbers ring 
Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell ; 

And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring 
A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — 
And now, 't is silent all ! — Enchantress, fare 
thee well ! 



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